Down to Earth
by sheeplady46
Summary: Part 2 of 5. Sequel to "A Byte of Time". Paul and Scott are living on a farm in Washington and following leads on the elusive Kelly Simpson. Living close to the land provides further education to the Starman along with a close encounter of the third kind with his nemesis.
1. Part 1

Dedication

To STARMAN fans everywhere. Long may our blue lights glow.

A special thanks is given to all those who brought STARMAN to life and to those who continue to keep it alive. To all of you this work is dedicated.

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Dear Reader,

This story follows my earlier story, "A Byte of Time", and fits into the time frame, preceding "Starscapes". Some dialog in this story deals with things I feel father and son might have discussed in the series, but did not. I include them here because I feel they need to be examined. I also consider this a STARMAN concept story.

As my friend Desertgal tells me this is a "Mary Sue story" based ultra loosely on characters and places around home. I find no reason for relocation from areas I am familiar with. Whidbey is an island in Puget Sound north and west of Seattle. My husband and I have a farm partly in and partly outside the small city of Langley and some of the matters set forth in this work refer directly to our farming situation.

The events taking place on the farm we experience each year, or from time to time, and if I have described some with too much detail, I beg your indulgence for I am a reaologist (realist x zoologist). I gain a certain self-satisfaction from delivering a lamb or a calf who would otherwise not have been born. I love nature and I love working with farm animals, but I also respect them for what they are; the unwilling servants of the human race, that part of us we must someday rise above.

The description of the mountains I re-experienced in August of 1990, and except for literary license, the areas described would be recognizable to someone traveling the same paths. I guess, one might say, the rest is a great love of STARMAN, the characters and concepts, wishful thinking and a vivid imagination. Again, I hope you enjoy reading "Down to Earth" as much as I have enjoyed writing it. Any and all comments are appreciated.

Author's Notes

This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, or incidents are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or to persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

"Down to Earth" is a non-profit, amateur publication written for the enjoyment of STARMAN fans, and is not meant to infringe upon copyrights, or otherwise, held by Bruce A Evans and Raynold Gideon, Henerson-Hirsch, Productions, Michael Douglas Productions, Columbia Pictures Television, or ABC-TV.

Materials contained herein may not be copied or reproduced without the express written permission of the author.

* * *

Down to Earth  
By: Sheeplady46  
© February 1992, Revised January 2010

_Starman date, June 13, 1987_

.

After leaving the Taylors, Starman and Scott caught the next bus that came along. It took them across the city. It was after eleven when they got off and were walking down a busy boulevard in north Seattle. Both realized it had been another close call this afternoon. Once again, without the help of friends they would have been in Fox's hands.

Starman glanced at his son, bearing his share of their combined burden on his young shoulders. If only I had understood sixteen years ago what life would be like for him and his mother, I know I could have found some way to stay. In a moment of human passion I created this child, and then offered him to Jenny Hayden. I believed money and a mother's care all he needed from me. That I had provided. I imprinted within the last of my landing craft's energy modules, all the information I felt allowable for his future education. Leaving these things with Jenny, I believed I had provided everything necessary and when the ship came, I left. The thought never crossed my mind I would ever return. When I felt him calling, somehow, I knew I must go. Now I know Scott has become an important part of me.

I can only wonder what the government will do to us. What might have happened to him if I had not come back? What if Scott had no one to care for him? Fox was in Seattle when I returned. What if he had found him? Would Scott now be in confinement while they try to find in him, some evidence of me? Paul took in a deep breath and let it out with a sigh. He looked again at the rapidly maturing young man walking beside him. Even now it can still happen. He grimaced and felt a chill go through his very human body. It almost happened this afternoon in East Wenatchee. He saw Scott turn his head, catching him watching. "Dad, don't you think it's time to look for a place to stay for the night?"

I must clear my mind of these thoughts, the Starman thought, and return to being Paul Forrester, a father of this world. After all, life these past couple of months has been good to us and having to start sleeping out again can be delayed at least one more day. "We have money now, so how about a motel?" he offered in consolation.

"Right on." Scott replied excitedly. "I see some up ahead."

As they walked along, Scott glanced again at his father. "What are we going to do now, stay in Seattle or move on?"

"We probably should move on just in case the Taylors' plan didn't work like they expected. We have no way of knowing where Fox might be looking for us now. He might have come back to Seattle."

"Dad, there's one thing I would like to do before we leave Seattle this time."

"What might that be?"

"I'd like to take some flowers up to the Lockharts' graves," Scott replied pensively. "They were always pretty good to me."

"That would be nice," Paul replied. "We'll do it first thing in the morning."

Hastening strides brought them to the cluster of motels. Viewing the marquees, a procedure they had done many times when finances had allowed, they simultaneously spotted the cheapest. This time Scott beat his father to the announcement. "Across the street."

"Good choice. At least the advertisement is appealing, clean rooms and $28 a night, double occupancy."

"And most important at this time of night, 'vacancy'," Scott replied with a grin. "That means the office is still open."

It was just after midnight when they finally crawled between the sheets and said goodnight. Morning would be when one of them awoke. The previous day had been another stressful one.

%%%

In the morning Paul awakened first. He looked at his watch and smiled. Seven-thirty. Time to get started on the gift of this new day.

His father's movements of getting up awakened Scott. He yawned, and then stretched and offered a hearty "Good morning." For a moment he watched his father, and then closed his eyes for one last minute and awakened again when his father returned from the shower wrapped in a towel. This time Scott sat up, rested momentarily on the edge of the bed, stretched fully and proceeded into the bathroom.

Paul was just tucking in the tails of his shirt when Scott returned from his shower. By the time Scott finished dressing Paul had gathered and packed the items they had taken out of the duffle the night before. He deposited it in an alcove beside the door.

"Do you have the key?" Scott asked, and observing his father's nod, they readied themselves to leave the motel to look for breakfast.

Over breakfast at a small cafe down the block, they discussed the trip up to the cemetery and decided to leave the bags at the motel until they returned. The cemetery was on top of the hill not far from the little flower shop his step-parents had owned. Scott, familiar with this area of the city, found the proper bus to take them the short distance to his old neighborhood. Wanting to take some flowers for the graves, he was drawn to the area of the shop where he had shared a good portion of his growing up years with the Lockharts.

A bell tinkled cheerfully as they walked in the front door and they heard movement in the back of someone obviously coming to answer its demanding summons. A short, dark skinned, middle-aged man came into view from behind a screen. His skin reflected the pre-mature wrinkles of someone who had spent many years in a sunny climate. A smile of recognition swept Scott's face. "Rick?"

The man did a double take of the young man standing just inside the doorway and responded with a heavy accent. "Scotty?" His eyes lit up and a wide grin appeared. "It's good to see you." His eyes ran up and down the lean youth. "My how you've grown." His smile faded. "I worried when I heard you ran away from the juvenile center."

Scott glanced at his father who stood silently watching him greet an old friend and decided he should introduce him even though the introduction might raise some further questions. "Rick, this is my dad, Paul Forrester. Dad, this is Rick Gonzalez. Rick used to work for us ...I mean for Kent and Eileen."

Paul extended his hand to accept the one coming toward him. "I'm very happy to meet you, Mr. Gonzalez."

"Likewise," the man replied, "and please call me Rick, Mr. Forrester. I hardly know how to answer to Mr."

"Paul, please." Starman advised.

Scott's attention returned quizzically to the man. "What are you doing here, Rick?"

"I bought the shop when the estate put it up for sale," he replied. A bewildered look appeared as his eyes moved to Paul, and then back again. "Scott, I understood your father had died."

"I found out he was alive when he came to get me. We've been all over looking for mom."

"Her name was Jenny, wasn't it?" Rick replied.

"Yes, Jenny Hayden," Paul confirmed, hopeful of receiving something positive. "Did you know her?"

"Please tell me what you know about her." Scott asked eagerly.

A deep frown wrinkled Rick's face even further, and then softened. "I can't say I knew her, Scott, but yes, I know of her," Rick replied. His face wrinkled again into a broad grin. "I think you have a right to find out about your roots and I guess it really doesn't make any difference now that Kent and Eileen are gone." He paused a long moment. "It was a long time ago, but I could never forget her." A frown now left deeper wrinkles. "I think it was because of the look on her face. She always seemed frightened ... kind of aloof; like she was always worried or watching for something. It was sad, for it was like she was personally carrying the problems of the whole world around on her shoulders."

Paul felt another stab of guilt as he listened to the man. If only I had known, he thought. He lowered his eyes then raised them again and heaved a deep sigh as the man continued.

"Eileen brought her here one day and found her an apartment somewhere in the neighborhood. I guessed she might be going to some kind of school because she always seemed to have a lot of papers with her. Eileen obviously had agreed to baby sit for her." Rick turned back to Scott and grinned. "She was only around for a few weeks and it surprised me when she came into the shop one day and I heard her agree to leave you with Eileen and Kent. It was really strange, because while she was around here, it didn't seem she was without the money to take care of you. It was ... something else. Something I couldn't put my finger on. I didn't mean to eavesdrop on their conversation that last day, but I was in the other room putting a delivery into water containers and couldn't help hearing. I will say one thing though, when she walked in that morning, the look on her face was one I could never forget. She was a mother who had made up her mind to give her child to somebody who could offer him something better in life than she could."

"She just left me?"

"Yes," Rick confirmed. "Afterward, I suspected she had come here to check out the Lockharts. I think she left feeling secure in her choice of parents for you, Scott." He looked despondently at Scott. "I'm sorry I can't tell you more."

Scott glanced at his father, catching an apologetic look. "It's all right. I kind of understand her problem, now."

"When Eileen realized I had heard them talking, she gave me instructions that I was never to ask or say anything about it. Until now, I've kept that confidence. Just before you ran off last year, there was a guy from some government agency sniffing around and acting kind of high and mighty with his questions. I didn't like him from the moment I saw and didn't tell him either."

Fox was here too, Paul thought. How close Scott had been to vanishing before I ever knew him. I might have found only the sphere.

Rick glanced at Paul then returned his attention to Scott. "I think your mother had all the necessary papers with her when she came that last day. Anyway, everyone signed something. Then she left and I never saw her again."

Rick's face beamed as memories rekindled. His broadening smile causing his smile wrinkles to deepen even more. "It was wonderful around here, though. Eileen and Kent were like new people. They had tried for so long to have children, but nothing happened. Having you fulfilled an empty spot in their lives." He paused briefly. "You know, Scott, they really did love you."

"I know," Scott confirmed, tears of anguish coming to his eyes, "and in exchange I was the cause of the accident that killed them. They were arguing with me when the car went off the road. When I found out they were dead, I asked myself, 'Why not me too'?"

"Scott," Paul interjected emphatically, "it was an accident!"

Scott looked at his father. "But it was still my fault. I was the one who wouldn't quit arguing."

"Remember, any argument requires more than one person," Paul returned. "If you were arguing with them, then they were also arguing with you. The accident might have been prevented if the driver had stopped the car and everybody had taken the time to quietly discuss the problem."

Scott looked at his father, appreciating his wisdom. Still he could not overcome his guilt and his face showed it.

Rick recognized the problem. "I knew Eileen and Kent for many years, Scott. They would have been very happy to know their child had survived. You were their son and like any good parents, no matter what the circumstances, they would have wanted you to live."

His tears now under control, Scott smiled weakly. "Thanks Dad ... Rick. I needed that."

"Then you knew the Lockharts a long time?" Paul asked, his eyebrows rising as he looked at the man.

"Yes," Rick replied, "I went to work for them just after they bought the shop."

"In our search for Scott's mother, the only clue we had was that she had a friend by the name of Kelly Simpson who lived at Spirit Lake. We were down there, but she left over four years ago."

"Kelly was Eileen's aunt," Rick replied knowingly. Rick turned his attention to Scott. "Maybe it was Kelly who made the arrangement. When they introduced your mother, I thought her name sounded familiar."

"My mom worked for Kelly," Scott advised. "But Mom never even came to check on me. It isn't that far to Spirit Lake from here."

"I suspect that might have been part of the arrangement. I know when the resort was slow Kelly would visit, but never when you were around. When they expected Kelly, Kent would usually take you somewhere. After you started school, they visited only during the day. Kelly was always full of questions about you. Now it makes more sense. I'd be willing to bet it was Kelly who suggested Kent and Eileen. She helped her friend and her sister and probably gave your mother information about how you were doing. Still, I'm afraid Eileen and Kent's arrangement is buried with them."

"Did Eileen ever say anything about Kelly selling the resort or mention where she might have gone afterward?" Paul asked hopefully.

"No," Rick frowned thoughtfully, "Kelly hadn't been around much at all for the last eight or nine years and I really had no reason to ask." There was a long pause as Rick seemed to be trying to remember anything useful and deep creases appeared again on his face. His expression changed suddenly at the revival of something that might be useful. "Kelly had a brother. He came with her a couple of times. She called him Ron or Rob ... something like that. I'm sure it began with an R and his last name is Johnson, with an 'o'. He and Kent hit it off; I guess they were both into flowers. He lived in Seattle. On one of Kelly's last visits, Kent asked about him and I heard he had retired and moved somewhere north of here. If you can find him, he might know where Kelly is now."

Paul saw a look of hope appear on Scott's face. "We'll find him, Scott," he said enthusiastically. "I'm glad you wanted to stop here."

Scott smiled at his father's confident look. He knew his father had no idea of how many Johnson's there might be to check out, but he responded encouragingly. "Right on, Dad."

Paul smiled back at Rick. "You've been very helpful. Now we have somebody else to look for. Thank you."

Scott glanced at his watch. "Dad, I think it's time we get going. We can start checking the Johnson's this afternoon. Oh, Rick," Scott announced, remembering his reason for visiting the shop, "We're going up to the cemetery and I'd like to buy some flowers."

"What do you have in mind?"

Scott thought for a moment then cast a glance at his father and smiled. "I like the color blue. Do you have anything in?"

Rick moved toward the rear of the shop. "I have some blue iris in back. They just came in this morning. I was getting them into water when you came."

They followed Rick into the back room. Scott selected two bunches and handed them to Rick. Paul started to take out his wallet, but Rick motioned to stop. "It's on the house. I feel kind of badly I haven't been up there. Say an extra hello for me."

"Thank you, we'll be sure to do that." Paul confirmed with a pleasant smile while he puzzled why someone would want to verbally converse with those who long ago had become one with the cosmos.

Rick wrapped the flower stems in a piece of florist's paper and handed them to Scott. Scott responded with a gracious, "Thank you."

"Good luck with finding your mother, Scott," Rick offered as the two turned to leave. He followed them to the door and stood there as they left the shop, muttering to himself, "The story Jenny Hayden told of the father being dead surely brought finality to further questions of another consenting parent. It amazes me, for Scott obviously thinks a great deal of this man who apparently deserted him, and his mother. Maybe there were reasons for keeping him a secret only they and the Lockharts understood. I certainly can't deny the man seems pleasant enough and definitely cares about the boy. I guess late is better than never and I'm sure happy he did come back to take care of his son." Rick's eyes followed as the two crossed the street and walked up the hill toward the cemetery. He was smiling as he returned to work. "I feel good about telling them what I know of the Lockharts' well kept secret."

%%%

Paul and Scott walked the several blocks to the top of the hill, and then through the heavy wrought iron gates into the cemetery. Each, in his own way, had been to the graves before, but this time it was Scott's route they used.

Paul watched respectfully while Scott filled the flower receptacles with water from a nearby faucet and placed the flowers on the two graves. When Scott was through with his visit and Rick's hellos, Paul looked around the area then led his son to a small group of trees. Pointing upward among the branches, he said, "This is where I was the first time I ever saw you."

Scott frowned. "Are you wiggling your eyebrows?"

"Me?" Paul questioned impishly, pointing to himself. "It's the truth."

Scott's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "You mean you were sitting here in a tree?"

"Not sitting ... observing, and very seriously I might add."

"Why didn't you climb down and introduce yourself?"

"I didn't know who you were. I was following a signal emitting from your sphere. I guess I expected to see your mother." Paul smiled again. "I looked you over very carefully. Finally, I felt a need to personally check this strange looking being."

Looking at his father, Scott narrowed one eye trying to decide if his father was joking. "What do you mean 'strange looking'?"

Paul could see his son was trying to decide whether he was kidding him again. He held a very straight face, but when Scott looked him directly in the eye, he could not hold back the grin he felt gathering inside and the smile spread over his face. Humor still baffles me, he thought. Even though I practice, there is something about this physical body that makes it very difficult not to smile at a humorous situation. "Well, you were strange looking to me," he offered. "Besides we wouldn't have been able to converse anyway. You would have run away faster than you did in the park the first time we met."

"Huh?" Scott questioned.

Paul twice raised and lowered his eyebrows swiftly, and then made a sweeping motion with his hands from his head toward his feet. "I hadn't..."

Scott realized what the gesture meant. "Oh. You mean you hadn't become..." He thought 'human', but seemed unable to say it for to him, his father was human. Instead he gave a responsive smile. "I keep forgetting."

Paul grinned back. Then his grin vanished and a pensive look appeared in its place. "Scott, do you feel comfortable being with me?"

"Yeah," Scott replied.

"I don't mean 'yeah' comfortable. I mean ... really comfortable."

Scott's face reflected the strangeness of his father's question. "What do you mean?"

"Do you ever think of me as... " He shrugged his shoulders. "Well ... as not human?"

"I used to, but not anymore," Scott replied, narrowing one eye ever so slightly, "even though you are a bit weird at times." He thought back over their time together. At first I hated thinking about my father's origin. I felt weird and often sorry for myself. Finally I think I realized Dad will always remain the same and I had to completely accept who he is. Suddenly he felt a sense of pride. "You're more human than many people I've met and I think of you as ... my dad."

Paul's eyebrows rose and his grin returned, quickly growing into a broad smile. "Thank you."

Scott looked again at his father. This is a good time to ask something that occasionally still bothers me, he thought. "Now, can I ask you something?"

"Anytime," Paul replied.

"But if you hadn't already..." Scott repeated his father's head to toe gesture. "How did you manage to find Paul Forrester? It isn't like Mount Hawthorne was next door."

"I contacted the ship and it was deemed satisfactory for me to continue investigating the unauthorized holder of my sphere. I was advised to return to the landing craft that brought me to the surface to search for a new host. We sensed the tragedy down below on the mountain and determined it easily provide me the materials to reproduce a human body. Luckily it also provided me with identification no longer useful to its owner."

"Flying around down here, weren't they afraid of being shot down?"

"We came better prepared than the first time. We knew of the danger here and were bending your radar. If you'll think back, it wasn't my return that attracted Fox."

"Right, Liz said it was the accident," Scott acknowledged. "So anybody would have been all right?"

"Yes, the process would have been the same. "I just would have looked different." Paul's face became contemplative again, "You asked once before, 'why Forrester', and named some alternatives. Would you really have preferred somebody else?"

"Sometimes. At times this Forrester character can be a real pain."

"Who knows what kind of pain someone else might have been."

"I guess you're right," Scott acknowledged as a sly smile came over his face. "You could have been someone really famous."

Paul acknowledged Scott's rebuttal with a smile, "I could have been another mother."

"What?"

"I could have been ... well, female. Couldn't that present an interesting problem when we find your mother?"

Scott gave his father an unbelieving smile. "You wouldn't have, would you?"

"I might have," his father replied, still smiling. "It never occurred to me I would be staying here."

"But since you were my father, wouldn't you have preferred being a man?"

"To my kind it makes no difference. We're all equal. If the victim had been female, well..."

"What would I have to call you then?"

"Parent, I guess," Paul replied with a grin. "By the way, while we're dealing with old questions, I have one for you." Paul put his hand on Scott's shoulder, "Why hadn't you called me sooner?"

"I guess because I didn't have the sphere," Scott returned in a matter of fact manner. "Do you remember the tape recording from Mom?" Paul nodded. "A letter from an attorney said a personal item had been delivered to Kent and Eileen by mistake. That was the sphere. They were told it was a gift from you and was to be given to me when they saw fit. Well, the tape was supposed to be with it. I guess Kent and Eileen thought the sphere was everything so they just gave it to me. When somebody told the attorney they had died, he looked through his files and found the mistake. Then he sent the tape. He asked me to sign and return a paper saying I had received two items. It even required special mailing and my counselor, the lady you met at Leland Hall, took charge of returning it for me. After I listened to the tape, I remembered the hotel key you dropped and started calling around looking for you."

"Then when did you get the sphere?"

"Kent and Eileen had given it to me just before the accident. They told me it was from my father." Scott pulled out his sphere to display. "I didn't see much use for a steel marble and got angry thinking that it was all my father thought I ever needed from him. Mom must have told the Lockhart's something before she left me, because Kent was trying to tell me there was something special about it and to be patient and find out more before getting riled about any gift. That's what we were arguing about. Of course, now I know better, Dad. It was the greatest gift I'd ever receive. It finally brought you to me."

"Thank you," Paul stated simply. "I only wish your mother had left instructions to give it to you sooner."

"I'd probably have lost it if I had gotten it sooner. Actually if I hadn't been arguing with Kent, I probably would have rolled down the car window and tossed it. Then the accident happened." Scott's mouth contorted with distress at the memory. "A medic took me to the hospital and the doctor who examined me for injuries told me my mother and father had died. The hospital released me directly to a social worker. Some clothes were all she allowed me to take to Leland Hall. She didn't find the sphere. I guess I held on to it because it was all I really had left that the Lockharts and my real parents had ever touched."

Paul smiled then winked at his son. "With what I know of you, even now losing it is still a distinct possibility." The smile subsided and Paul put his hand on Scott's shoulder, directing him back toward the graves. "Besides, without your grief for them, you might never have called me."

Scott took another respectful look at the final resting places of two people he had loved and who had loved him in return. "It's rather strange that this place was the first time you saw me."

"Why do you say that?" his father asked with a frown.

"It's like, getting the sphere and their deaths brought to me the explanation of why I always felt different."

"But without the sphere the accident might not have happened. Fox might never have found you."

"But if he had, I could have been taken to some lab and wouldn't have received Mom's tape. I might never have been told anything about you." Scott smiled openly. "Thanks for coming back."

The Starman smiled. "Wouldn't have missed it for everything I had out there," he replied as he looked up toward the open sky."

Scott returned his father's smile with a widening grin of satisfaction and the pair turned to slowly walk out of the cemetery.

########################################

They decided to spend the rest of the week at the motel and called or visited every Johnson they found in the Seattle telephone directory whose name began with R. It was a long list and took a great amount of time. Days of searching garnered them nothing and they decided to move further north in the morning.

While on the bus back to the motel Scott saw an advertisement for a new space exhibit at the Seattle Center. After a brief discussion, they decided to take it in before quitting the city.

They arrived at the Seattle Center grounds at seven the next morning and wandered around. All paths seemed to lead to the International Fountain. The place brought back memories to Paul of coming here with Liz to meet Scott again. He told Scott what Liz had said that convinced him to follow and at least try to be a real father.

Crossing the Center grounds they walked by many of the places they had passed in their first combined effort to avoid George Fox, arriving finally at the Pacific Science Center. Waiting for the exhibit to open, they stood together leaning against the railing under the Arches of Knowledge where their journey together had begun. Scott turned, and then grinned. He put his arms around his father and hugged him.

Paul's eyebrows rose at the spontaneous gesture. "What was that for?"

"Just because," he replied with feeling. "I'm so glad I had nowhere to go and you found me here."

Paul willingly returned Scott's hug. "I'm glad Liz's very challenging lecture on responsibility and raising children convinced me to find you."

"There's been a lot of water under the bridge since then hasn't there, Dad?"

"Water under the bridge?" Paul questioned, looking quizzically at Scott. Following Scott's gaze he looked down and found himself looking into a pond of water extending under the sidewalk on which they stood.

"What I mean is, we've been through a lot haven't we?"

"I agree." Paul's eyes began to twinkle as he recalled their many adventures the past months. "We have had fun though, haven't we?"

"Except the very beginning," Scott returned with a totally straight face. "I really did think you were kind of weird."

"Well, you know," Starman returned with a gleam in his eye, "you were also a bit weird to me."

"In what way?"

"You acted rather ... like a human teenager."

"I was supposed to act like a human teenager."

"But I didn't understand what that meant," Paul returned solemnly. "I could only judge your actions by how I would act in a given situation."

Scott looked at his father sympathetically. "Do you understand now?"

"I think only partially, at times," Paul returned. "I see humans working hard to hurt one another. Sometimes, I think they do it only as a joke, but they do and say things to each other that are cruel."

Scott lowered his eyes. "You mean like I did to you?"

"Yes," Paul acknowledged. "Tell me, what was it that finally allowed you to accept me?"

"I think it started at Spirit Lake after the thing with the mountain lion. I looked into your eyes when you told me I was a part of you. At that moment I needed someone and I realized you really cared about what happened to me. You were there, you were real and though I resented you having left mom and me, you came back." Scott began to grin again. "I figured I couldn't change who I was, but if I didn't want to be alone, I'd just have to get used to you being ... different."

"Remember, you're also different," Paul reminded.

"I know that, but back then I didn't want to deal with it."

Paul frowned, remembering the first few weeks they were together. "Still I couldn't understand why you did and said so many things to purposely hurt me."

"I'm sorry," Scott replied.

"Well, when did I become 'okay'?"

"I think it was when you got sick. You weren't the weird stranger from space anymore, you were my father and I was afraid you were going to die. I guess I never appreciated what I had until I was about to lose it again. After my blood gave you the immunity you needed to live ... you became a part of me." Scott was now blinking away a persistent tear threatening to overflow and needed an upbeat thought to stifle it. "I realized, over time, I'd grown to love you."

Paul reveled in the emotion of the openly expressed love received from his child of this world. He put his arm around Scott's shoulders. "I love you too, Scott."

Scott wrapped his arms around his father and they remained in silent communion of the bond now existing between them. Minutes passed. Scott finally broke the silence when the ticket seller arrived and a window opened. "Shall we go in and see the exhibit?"

There was hardly anybody on the grounds yet and they wandered, unobstructed, around the exhibit looking at the various displays. Finally they came to a display about the Voyager Probes. Paul looked over at the display then punched the start button. They listened to a recorded narrative then he turned to Scott. "Do you remember the night we started talking to Katherine about the photographs from Odessey II?"

"Sure, about Jupiter and Io."

"Much of the information for this exhibit is credited to Voyager, but the interpretation of the information contained in it is very inaccurate," Paul offered, pointing to a surface feature of one of the outer planets. "This is nothing like the other side and many features are quite different."

"Different ... like the satellites on my project?" Scott asked critically, "Dad you have to be more careful when you try to explain features about space, from space. You can't keep correcting information when it's the best we have to date. You might attract the wrong people and get us in trouble again."

"I know, but look at this," Paul continued, again pointing out a chemical analysis. "It's very inaccurate. And this..."

Scott listened with total concentration, while his father continued to point out further inaccuracies in the display. He asked several questions, this time making mental notes of things his father offered that he could not pass on to anybody else. Neither noticed a man moving closer and listening attentively to their conversation.

The man, his interest apparently piqued by what he heard, suddenly walked boldly over the two additional steps and placed his hand on Paul's shoulder. "May I ask you something?"

Paul jumped nervously when he heard a strange voice from behind. When he felt the hand, he spun around to face the man. I don't know this person, he thought, but I also don't know how many men Fox may have looking for us.

"I'm sorry, I seem to have startled you," the man offered in retrospect for his bold gesture of touching a stranger. "I didn't intend to eavesdrop, but I couldn't keep from hearing you explain this exhibit. You sound like you're really up on this stuff, mister, and you sure seem to have an easy way of talking about it. Are you familiar with the Voyager programs?"

Without noticing a growing smile on the man's face, Scott jumped in nervously and tried to smooth over what might be a problem. Trying to sound convincing he said, "We have a friend who was with NASA. He told Dad a lot of stuff about space exploration."

Paul could sense a lack of aggression in the man and knew him not to be the anticipated threat. Now he looked at the person. He was slightly taller and more heavily built than his growing son and appeared to be about the same age as his host body. The man's eyes were blue and his hair somewhat the color of Scott's genetic father. His skin was somewhat lighter than his or Scott's and most important, his smile was friendly.

The man's interest was in Paul, not in Scott's explanation. "My name's Calvin Doran." He offered his hand. "Everyone calls me Cal. I'm a teacher in an alternative school for high school dropouts. We've been studying the various space projects and discussing why their discoveries are important enough to warrant continuation of similar, unmanned programs." He now looked Paul right in the eye and his brow wrinkled. "This may seem a strange request, but if you're not busy, would you consider giving a casual talk to a couple of my classes this afternoon?"

Puzzled, Paul looked at the man. "I'm not a teacher."

"But you seem to know the subject. Anytime someone knows a subject, students can get more out of it that they can't get from a teacher whose knowledge is deficient. That's why I'm here this morning. They seemed to be more than just a little interested, so I'm trying to find more to give them." He took a deep breath then let it go. "Please consider it. I know that somebody who can provide information and field questions like you've just done can have an impact on these dropouts. Some of them just need a boot in the right place to get them interested in something. Their youthful curiosity does the rest. I have some extremely interested students I know are worthy of my further efforts in this direction. I could give them a reading assignment, but I find it works best if they don't think its homework until they get hooked on the subject. I believe we need to provide more encouragement in math and science."

"You're correct," Paul stated without reservation.

"The school can't pay much," Cal continued, hopefully, "but it would certainly help me out and benefit all the kids. We're about twenty miles north of here. I'll provide the transportation up and back."

Scott's eyebrows rose at the mention of the school being north. This could be our ride out of the city in exchange for a bit of talk about something Dad does know.

"Please?" Cal asked hopefully. "I'm just not up to date on the space programs."

"But I don't know if I'm qualified," Paul replied, casting a questioning look at his son.

Scott shot his father a quick glance and tried to stifle back a grin about his father's choice of words. Dad, be realistic, he thought.

"From what I heard you tell your boy, you're almost more than qualified. It would only be a couple hours at the most," he begged hopefully.

Scott caught his father's questioning look and responded with a shrug of his shoulders. "Why not? We need to head north anyway."

Paul looked back at the man and nodded. "As I said before, I'm not a teacher, but I'll give it a try. We will need to check out of our motel first. It's not too far from here and since we don't have a car, a ride would be appreciated. Like Scott said, we are planning to head north anyway, so a ride back here will not be necessary." A look of gratitude appeared on Cal's face as he let out a deep breath.

Paul hoped he could present a program the students would enjoy, while not getting too technical. For assistance, before leaving the Science Center, he bought a book about the exhibit at the souvenir counter.

After a quick phone call, Cal drove them to the motel and soon they were headed up the ramp onto the northbound freeway out of the city. On the way Paul quickly perused his book, mentally noting information conflicting with what he knew. He made up his mind to present the truth to the classes, taking care not to exceed the information in the book by too much.

########################################

As they walked into the school, what had sounded to Scott like a good idea for getting a free ride north toward Mr. Johnson now made him somewhat nervous. What will Dad have to offer to a classroom of kids that will keep their interest and not give information they would seriously question? If Dad starts getting too technical the lecture will either go right over their heads, or raise questions he should not answer. Will Dad know when to stop? He grimaced. I think it's too late to start worrying now. I guess I'll have to trust his judgment and be ready to run.

They waited about thirty minutes then Cal introduced Paul to his combined science classes. Paul's main lecture followed the guidebook, but he easily fielded many other questions as the students prompted for more detail. He encouraged them to do further research on their own. At one point a glance from his son told him he was getting into details exceeding what was needed and he motioned Scott to the stage, introduced him and brought him in to the lecture. Now a father and son effort, the students related to Scott and his interest in the subjects and Paul delivered enough information to provide the desire to seek more. Together, they involved the students in hearty discussions about the challenges and opportunities in science, space and related fields, derived from Dale Taylor and heavily stressed education as a lifetime pursuit. Scott concluded the lecture with, "If you don't prepare ahead, you won't have the necessary background and when your job comes along, it will go to somebody else. Don't get left out because you haven't spent enough time in school."

The class time passed in what seemed like moments, but the students continued to field questions that Paul answered until all seemed satisfied. Cal dismissed the class and handed Paul a check. Paul refused it, for he had thoroughly enjoyed the afternoon with the students. It had cost them nothing and had provided them with a ride in the right direction. Though Cal argued payment for special programs was a part of the school's budget, Paul remained adamant.

When the issue was finally settled, Cal announced in total earnest, "From the way you two talk, one can begin to believe others really do exist out there and that it's important we keep trying to reach for the stars."

"Yes." Paul placed his fingers to his forehead. "Here inside, I know they exist," he offered with confidence. "Man must never stop reaching for that which he believes is beyond." He grinned when he saw Scott smirking coyly. Returning with a double flash of his eyebrows, he continued. "Now I think it's time for us to go."

Cal stood silently looking at Paul, appreciative of the man's convictions. "Could you wait about fifteen minutes while I wrap up my duties and make some calls?"

Paul shrugged then nodded. After Cal left, he wondered why they could not just walk to find another motel, but he remained because he had said they would. Soon a number of students returned to the classroom with additional questions. Others just popped in to say 'thanks' and it made him feel good. In what seemed like moments, Cal returned.

As they walked out of the school together Cal made his presentation. "If you're not doing anything special this weekend, I would like you to come over to the Island with me."

Paul looked questioningly at the man. "The Island?"

"You're not familiar with Whidbey Island?"

"No," Paul replied. "We haven't been around here long."

Though he knew of Whidbey Island, with the necessity of helping in the Lockhart's flower business, Scott never had an opportunity to see it. His father had already said they knew nothing about it and Scott merely shook his head.

"It's just a ferry's ride west of here," Cal offered. "My wife's father owns one of the few family farms left out there. I'd like to have you meet my family. We live in a mobile on the farm and we're having a little gathering of family and friends on Sunday." He awaited a response and hearing no outright rejection, a hopeful look appeared on his face. "Everyone seems to enjoy time on a farm."

"We wouldn't want to impose," Paul replied with concern.

"I've already checked with Dad and June. They said there's always room for two more. They're making up a room for you at the house. You'll be my guests." His eyebrows rose and he grinned. "The invitation includes meals and three nights."

"But ..." Paul tried to continue.

"Look," Cal offered earnestly, "you two really had the kids fired up about science and more important, about getting an education. You have to remember that most of these kids had already given up on school, and themselves. From their reaction and questions, I think you really impressed them. I think a weekend vacation is the least I can do in exchange for getting a message across."

"Are there any Johnson's living out there," Scott asked casually.

Cal looked at the boy quizzically. "Lots. The island has a large Scandinavian community."

Scott's eyes met his father's and he accepted with a shrug. "Why not? It is north of Seattle and I suppose we can continue our search out there."

"All right!" Cal confirmed with gusto. "We're out of here. If we hurry we can beat most of the weekend ferry traffic."

A twenty-minute drive, a half hour wait and Cal drove onto the ferry and parked in the vast lower deck area of the vessel reserved for automobiles. He took Paul and Scott upstairs to the passenger level, and then outside onto the deck where they watched the boat traffic moving up and down Puget Sound.

Paul felt a surge of power within the vessel as it moved away from the dock and turned to Scott. "This is different than the boat in San Francisco."

"That was a boat, Dad, a much appreciated fishing boat to be exact. This is almost a ship."

Paul took a deep breath, "Well, the air still smells the same. I think I would like to travel more on the waters of your oceans."

Scott grimaced. Cal is giving Dad another one of those strange looks. I'll have to remind him again about using 'the' instead of 'your'.

The crossing took only fifteen minutes and shortly the ferry was docking. They returned to the car and in another twenty minutes the car was rolling down a long driveway. A man walked out and Cal introduced them. "Paul and Scott Forrester, ... I'd like to introduce my wife's father, Roy Foster." A formal handshake followed.

Roy Foster was in his early seventies, about 6 feet tall, 190 pounds with a muscular build. Two striking feature were an almost bald head and dark blue-grey eyes. His body was short of leg and long in the waist. The blue-denim jeans he wore were held up by wide red suspenders and evidenced work that was both dirty and greasy. His face, showing at least a two-day growth of facial hair, but held a broad and impish grin.

They walked into the house and Cal greeted a woman standing at the stove with a hug, and then introduced Paul and Scott. "This is Roy's wife, June, ... my wife's step-mother."

Paul pondered the introduced relationship, and then remembering the relationship Ellen Taylor had with Dale's son, Ted, shook her proffered hand politely. June was a contrast from her husband. He guessed her to be in her early 50's. She was short, plump with a round face. Her eyes were blue, her hair short and light brown, showing an increasing amount of grey. She wore the same broad, friendly grin as her husband. Paul couldn't help but notice, as she led them to the spare room to deposit their bags, that like Dale and Ellen Taylor, there was a large age discrepancy between the two. Cal stepped to the phone and made a call. Shortly a woman and two girls walked in the front door.

Cal introduced his wife, Kathy, who appeared to be in her late thirties, of medium height with long blonde hair pulled back and tied at the neck. Her blue eyes sparkled and her fair skin showed a slight hint of sunburn. Her clothes, neat and clean, covered a shapely figure and she spoke softly. "I'm very pleased to meet you."

Introductions then turned to Cal's daughters. Amy, the oldest, had already moved over to stand by Scott and was sizing up the young male visitor. She was fifteen, with almost black hair and a lovely dark brown and smooth complexion. Her very dark eyes balanced her high cheek bones. Though pleasant and extremely outgoing, her general appearance reminded Paul of Tonita Cordova, whom he had met in Mexico. Sandy, the younger, seemed like a youthful copy of her mother. She was thin with long blonde hair, large expressive blue eyes and a fair complexion. At her eleven years she had the look of a girl poised and ready to blossom into adolescence. She appeared shy, for when she noticed the strangers she quickly handed a large bowl of salad to June and after being introduced, disappeared into the kitchen.

June already had dinner underway and Kathy and the girls stepped in immediately to help. Paul noticed a great amount of friendly bantering between all the family members. A half hour later they were all sitting down together at the large dining room table.

The dinner consisted of the green salad Sandy had brought in, a meat dish, potatoes, green peas and a generous slice of wild blackberry pie with ice cream. The food was passed around the table in a casual way and everybody served themselves from the generous amounts on hand. Paul compared the meal with the many wonderful meals he had enjoyed at the Taylors. June Foster was obviously a good cook, but her cooking and serving style was much more casual than Ellen's. "Delicious meal, Mrs. Foster," Paul offered, unable to eat another bite.

"You're very welcome, Paul," she offered hesitantly, "and please, it's June," she replied. "I must admit I love to feed someone who enjoys a meal."

"Believe me, the meal was enjoyed," Paul returned, appreciating her offering of first names as he started to get up. "Now may Scott and I do the dishes?"

Before Paul got completely to his feet, Amy took Scott's hand and led him in the direction of the kitchen. It was obvious Amy wanted to talk further to the new kid on the block and Paul had been, without a word being spoken, summarily dismissed to remain with the adults. With a stern look from Cal, Sandy joined the two teenagers at cleanup duty.

A great amount of giggling and laughing emitted from the direction of the kitchen and Paul recognized it wasn't all female. It took a full forty-five minutes to complete the dishes.

Scott finally came out of the kitchen and walked over to his father. "Dad, is it all right if I go downtown with Amy and Sandy? They're meeting some friends and going to a movie."

Paul could see no reason to deny his son the social contact. "Do you have money?" he questioned.

Giving a positive nod, Scott bound back into the kitchen and soon the house was devoid of girls, giggles and Scott. Roy invited Paul to sit with them in the living room.

"I'd like to thank you all for your hospitality and the invitation to share your home with us," Paul said appreciatively as he sat down on the sofa.

"It's our pleasure," June replied as she picked up a newspaper from the coffee table and placed it on a growing stack of waste paper materials. "From what Cal says, you got him out of a bind today."

"Yes, Paul, I'd like to thank you again for taking the time," Cal offered earnestly. "You and your son were better than I could ever have hoped for. Where did you get your knowledge of space exploration? Your son mentioned something about having a friend with NASA."

"Yes," Paul replied confidently, "my friend Dale Taylor, worked at NASA. He also worked on your Voyager II program and the Space Shuttles."

"Is that how you learned so much about the probes?"

"I've studied space for quite some time," Paul replied. "I was quite familiar with the contents of the second probe, but not with the first or the shuttles. Dale did tell me much about them during a stay at his home."

"Your talk at school was more than just casual, Paul," Cal acknowledged earnestly. "Are you a scientist?"

"No. I'm a photojournalist, but I have studied the sciences quite extensively. I want my son to learn as much about the sciences of his world as possible," Paul said with a smile.

"Photojournalism must be interesting work," Cal returned. "Do you have a specialty?"

Paul smiled. "This body has been around the world photographing various events and projects. I have discovered being in photojournalism is a good way to study human nature."

June looked at Paul, a bewildered look on her face at his strange use of words. She shrugged it off as another question came to mind and she moved in that direction. "You must do a lot of traveling. What does Scott do while you're gone?"

"Until a short time ago, he lived with a family in Seattle. They died in an automobile accident last year. Now he travels with me."

"How does he continue his education?"

"He attends school whenever we happen to be in one place for a while. He passed into the tenth grade while we were living in East Wenatchee. When he's not in school, I teach him. That's why we were at the Center today."

"Well he's a real nice boy, Paul," June said with a smile. "You're to be commended on a job well done."

"I really can't take the credit. He really spent most of his young life in Seattle. I only found my son a little over a year ago. I guess he was told I was dead and when I came back he had a little bit of a problem accepting me as a father. We have both done quite a bit of adjusting."

"Well, I'd never guess it now. As I said, he's a nice boy and the two of you seem close."

"Thank you," Paul replied graciously.

"Tell us more about your work," Roy asked.

Paul started relating what he knew of the career of his predecessor gained from the television program he watched in Charlotte's apartment; a few articles he found; and from the book of Paul Forrester's photographs. He intentionally left out any mention of the special prize his mentor had won for his work. With his limited knowledge of his host's life, Paul soon decided he must change the subject. "You have a nice home. Have you always farmed?"

Now the subject was changing to one Roy and June knew and both loved talking farming to an interested listener. "I've farmed for as long as I can remember," Roy explained, "but my work hasn't been limited to farming. During the lean years I had to do just about everything I could think of just to keep the farm. I've been a logger and run a bulldozer to clear land for new home construction now. I guess you could say I'm semi-retired and do the same work in my spare time."

"Roy's first love has always been farming," June advised. He's raised a lot of different crops at one time or the other, like grains, milking cows, beef, sheep, turkeys, chickens, hogs and last, but not least, three children."

"You have other children besides Kathy, and then?" Paul questioned.

"Yes," June offered, "Roy has another daughter, who lives back east, and a son in Oregon."

There was a general discussion about the other children and an expanding number of grand children. June then disappeared briefly returning with a family photo album. Shortly she went for another album and showed Paul some photos of the early days on Whidbey Island. The conversation then moved on to a rapidly expanding influx of people into the area.

The evening passed quickly and soon a noise at the door heralded the return of the young people. Though Paul had learned long ago not to worry about Scott, he was happy they had returned. In this evening of casual conversation, he felt confident he had changed the subject to his hosts before making any slips in the discussion about space or Paul Forrester's life. Continuing practice is making social conversation easier.

Before departing for home, Kathy invited Paul and Scott to take the evening meal at their home the following day. They accepted graciously. At the door, each of the departing family members exchanged a brief hug. It was almost eleven and everybody agreed it was time to retire. On the farm the weekends were considered important, for they provided the two families days in which they could work and play together.

########################################

Paul awoke to the sounds of movement in the house and woke Scott. After dressing they wandered out into the living room. June peeked out from the kitchen with a smiling, "Good morning. Did you sleep well?" At almost simultaneous greetings and confirmations she replied, "Good. Breakfast will be ready soon. Do you want bacon and one egg or two?"

"Yes to the first and two to the second," Paul replied.

Scott indicated the same.

"I would estimate three pancakes each, right?" June asked with a grin. Again she received positive responses. "Juice is on the table already and there's coffee and tea available at the stove. Milk is in the refrigerator if you want some, Scott. Grab a glass and help yourself whenever you're ready."

"Thank you," Paul said politely as he saw Scott slip into the empty bathroom. Left alone talking to June, he said, "Is there anything I might do to help you?"

"I've been doing this for a lot of years," she replied with a smile. "I've got it, somewhat, down to a science. For the first couple of days you're company." She glanced up at Paul. "After that, I won't guarantee not to take you up on such an offer."

"Really, if there is anything either of us can do to help, we would be glad to do so."

"Thanks you, Paul, but really, I've got it under control. I don't mind the cooking, but I hate serving beverages, so help yourself to something to drink."

Paul got a cup of coffee from the pot on the stove. In a few minutes Scott reappeared and Paul disappeared. He returned just in time to see Roy come in from outside. "Good morning sleepy heads." Roy offered. "I've already been out and have the stock fed." They exchanged greetings then Roy went into the bathroom to wash-up. By the time he joined them at the table, breakfast had moved onto the table.

In Paul's estimation there was enough for a small army, but when breakfast was finished nothing was left. Roy Foster had a great capacity for breakfast.

%%%

Delighted at their visitor's strong show of interest in seeing the farm operation, Roy and June offered a guided tour. They walked outside and Roy pointed out the extent of the farm property. It surrounded the Foster's home completely, extending into the woods on the south, to roadways on the north and east and to adjoining small tracts on the west. A road divided the home acreage from the rest of the farm property to the south.

They walked into a sheep pasture to look over a flock of fat sheep and rapidly growing lambs. Two ewes walked over for some attention and Paul reached out his hand to one of the animals and tried stroking her. "The fur is different. It feels stiff and greasy." he commented. "And what is that smell?"

"Sheep," June returned. "Smell your hands." She grinned broadly as their guest withdrew his hand and sniffed it. "Her fleece is full of an oil called lanolin. It keeps the hair oiled and makes the animal somewhat waterproof from the weather."

"Why do the big sheep have shorter hair than the little ones?" Scott asked. Suddenly a lamb rushed over from some distance away and immediately began vigorously nudging his leg with an insistent nose.

"The grown ones have been sheared already," June advised.

"Sheared?" Scott questioned as the lamb started bumping his leg.

"They've had the long hair clipped off to be used for making clothing and other textiles. It's called wool."

Scott recognized the word wool, as the Lockharts had insisted on wool being in his winter shirts and good suit. His attention quickly returned to the lamb now nuzzling up his pant leg. He began laughing as it found one of his fingers and deftly sucked it into an active mouth. Scott hastily withdrew the finger and the lamb went back to his pant leg, giving him a decisive butt on the leg with its head. "What is it doing?" he questioned.

"Oh, don't mind Rambo," June laughed. "He just thinks you might have a bottle for him. We had to bottle feed him because his mother didn't seem to have enough milk for both of her lambs this year. Old Dinah is eleven and I'm afraid ready for recycling."

Scott looked at her, a quizzical frown on his face. "Recycling?"

"Slaughter," June replied sadly. "She's been a good old gal. For ten of her years she's raised two lambs each year for us. Now it's time for a youngster to take her place."

"You mean you're going to kill her?" Paul asked.

June could see both of their guests were unfamiliar with the realities of farming livestock and appeared sensitive to the thought of killing animals. With so many city folks moving in the past few years she observed the same reaction on too many other faces to act surprised. She knew most people never thought much about where the food they buy in their neighborhood supermarkets, comes from. Whenever anyone questioned the realities of operating a farm, she found it difficult to mince words and answered bluntly. "That's what they're raised for." She looked for a further reaction. "All of these lambs you see here, except the one we chose to save to replace Dinah, must end up the same."

"How can you do that!" Scott replied critically.

The lamb and the two ewes, bored with standing around without any handouts, started drifting back toward the flock. Having seen nothing but a thoughtful expression on Paul's face, June returned her attention to Scott's critical accusation. "I like to think of it as 'fulfilling their destiny'. Sheep have a tremendous reproductive rate. If these sheep are not killed by us, or a wild predator, in less than ten years there wouldn't be enough grass on this entire farm to continue feeding them. In nature, the natural predators serve that purpose. In farming we protect them from wild predators to provide the final predator, the human race, with a high protein food product. Since the largest majority of people today are unable, or unwilling, to provide anything for themselves, we have farmers. This is the specialized kind of farming we do." She smiled at him, "You did enjoy last night's dinner, didn't you?"

"Yes, very much."

June shook her head slowly and smiled. "Well, the meat dish was from one just like Dinah. Her name was Popcorn. The roasts, steaks, hamburgers and hot dogs and even the food for dogs and cats, come from animals as meat or meat by-products."

"I guess I've never really thought much about it before," Scott said with an unhappy frown.

"It's something most people never like to think about, particularly while they are actively enjoying a steak or fried chicken dinner, or have just fed their dog or cat. For those products something had to die. If they had to think about it, perhaps they wouldn't waste so much."

"If we think about it, we might think more about becoming vegetarians," Scott offered, grimacing.

"In the end it wouldn't make any difference, Scott, except we wouldn't be farming here any longer. The animals have to die anyway. It's the cycle of life, whether it is an animal or a plant. One thing must feed upon the other and mankind, right now, is luckily at the top of that ladder. The bottom line is, when we keep animals in a limited space, like we have to do on this farm, at the end of any year the numbers of each must be the same, or fewer, than when we started. If not, we will overgraze our pastures and all will suffer."

Paul studied the look on his son's face. The nature films I have seen on the television rarely deal with the final outcome of an animal's existence. He tried to think of a way of explaining the concept further. "It's a fact, Scott, all life forms must have a source of energy to continue. In some places they feed directly on abstract energy sources, but here on earth, life forms still feed upon biological sources."

Scott observed a quizzical frown again appear momentarily on June's face as she looked at his father. I think dad is getting a bit too technical again. "I think I understand that, Dad, and I guess you're both right. I've just never thought about it in exactly that way."

"Most people don't," June reiterated. "On the farm we accept the fact that one thing must die to provide for another, but we don't believe their lives should ever be wasted. Like Old Dinah; she has served us well in making our livelihood off the land, but there is little to no open market for an old sheep like her, except perhaps for animal food. I like to be sure she doesn't suffer while awaiting slaughter, so we do it. We sell or utilize everything we can. Some we give away to friends, the rest to those in need. She was born on this farm and she'll die here."

"But isn't she ... like a pet?" Scott remarked with distress. "How can you eat her?"

"From her beginning, we accept what her destiny will be and we appreciate her while she's with us. Any animal's purpose in life is fulfilled by raising offspring. Dinah simply isn't doing a good job any longer. If we hadn't fed Rambo, both of her lambs would have been hungry or possibly starved. Would it make you happier if we just buried all three, wasting food while people go hungry? Ten years ago she was selected out of a whole group of lambs like these, to continue in the flock. One of the ewes out there is her daughter and a couple years ago one of her son's fathered half of the lambs for that year. The rest of her offspring have served as food. In livestock farming we choose those that best suit our purposes. In nature, the most capable will survive to reproduce, but most become food for something else."

"You could just keep her," Scott proclaimed.

"But we can't keep them all. This is our business, Scott. Like your dad takes pictures for a living, we raise animals to feed people. When an animal doesn't produce any longer, it must leave here. Don't prejudge us; we care about, and for, all our animals and we accept the responsibility to take good care of them while they're with us. They have enough food to eat, medicine when they need it and in exchange their lives are taken as humanely as possible. In nature that is not always the case."

"I saw you drinking a glass of milk this morning, Scott," Roy interjected. "That's another animal product and it comes from a cow, not from a box."

"Yes, but the cow didn't have to die for it," Scott replied with assurance.

"To provide you with milk to drink, her calf had to be taken from her," Roy returned. "It takes a lot of cows to provide milk for the human race, so a lot of calves are born. They can't all live so most dairy calves are slaughtered when they get three or four months old. They appear in restaurants and supermarkets as veal. Besides, what do you think happens to the cow when she gets old or no longer gives enough milk? Like with our sheep, there are no rest homes for cows."

"What happens?" Scott asked cautiously.

"Hamburger, hot dogs, bologna and other processed meats. It's really the same cycle as nature, except it provides for people."

"But enough of this," June offered, seeing Scott still mildly upset by the conversation. "Let's get on with the grand tour."

Paul and Scott continued to follow their hosts and soon were looking at some young cattle lying down in the shade of a large tree re-chewing a stomach full of grass. The cattle paid little attention to them. "The story is about the same for these," Roy confirmed. "They'll all feed people and as by-products, peoples' carnivorous friends, dogs or cats, or zoo animals."

Walking across a roadway dividing the farm they looked at a group of cows with young calves. Scott now realized all these animals would ultimately become food.

They climbed over a wooden gate and the inquisitive noses of four horses accosted them. June started introducing the animals. "This dark brown and black horse is a color pattern known as bay. His name is Monty. He's the oldest of our horses." They walked over to a second animal. His long neck hairs, tail and lower legs are a rich dark brown, Paul thought. His body color is similar to the gold of a ripening wheat field I saw last fall. This one seems shyer than the others, for he is stepping away from June. He grinned. She is persisting in following him. Now she has grabbed his tail and he has stopped. June petted the animal on the rump then moved down one side. When she could pet his neck and head she motioned Paul and Scott to approach. "This buckskin is Duke. He's one of our strongest animals, but as you can see he can be a bit hard to catch, especially if there are strangers around. He's also more of a challenge to ride."

While Paul and Scott moved toward June the two other horses followed behind. One began nuzzling Scott in the back, seeking attention. Roy turned around to accost the two, pushing them sideways, "This mousey colored excuse for a horse is Burr. He's called a line-back dun. Don't let him grab any loose clothes with his teeth or he'll take off with it," Roy explained, "His sidekick is Blackie, for obvious reasons."

"I normally ride Blackie," June offered. "He and Burr are buddies. They've been together since birth and it takes a good rider to separate them. Usually we ride together so they almost always get their wish."

Paul thought about how different, this farm was from Antonia Wayburn's where the animals were kept inside a stable. I wonder what will become of these horses when they get old. June says the way of nature here is to be killed by some predator and provide food for something else. Do they also provide food for other animals? Paul's eyes narrowed in thought. I know Antonia had horses of great monetary value. Somehow, I don't think providing food to be the case at the Wayburn farm. If they die naturally, what is done with them? Are they buried, as with humans? I didn't see any cemetery. Perhaps they are recycled as on this farm. His thoughts returned to the cycles of his world. How different life is on planet Earth in comparison to my world where there are no animals. Our evolution finally produced a system where energy is consumed directly. Even so, each life, whether at home or away, requires a place to be and an energy source. The energy to continue must come from something and is not available to something else. Each system has its place, but this one in its youth is much more puzzling.

They walked toward a fifth horse that had not walked over. Roy walked up to him confidently. "And lastly, this bay horse is Red. He prefers you come to him. Though he's almost the same color as Monty, you can always tell them apart because Red has four white legs. We think of him as our beginners mount. He's a plodder, but he gets the job done. He's second in the pecking order of the herd, behind Monty."

"Pecking order?" Paul asked, his eyebrows rising with his question.

"Almost all animal populations develop what is called a pecking order," June advised. "That is, an order of superiority established among the group members. In this small band of horses, Monty is the undisputed lord and master. The other horses don't tamper with him or they know his bite or kick. He can boss all of them. Red can pick on the other three, but not Monty. Duke is third, and can discipline either Blackie or Burr, but must give to Red or Monty. Blackie and Burr are almost equal, picked on by the other three. It's hard to distinguish a leader between them, but I believe Blackie dominates Burr for the most part. It's somewhat the same in people; there are leaders and followers." She looked from Paul to Scott. "Do you ride?"

"I had a couple lessons when we were staying at a horse farm," Scott replied.

"The teacher said he was a natural," Paul offered innocently.

"And what about you, Paul?"

"Twice," he replied. "It seemed simple enough at the time, rather like riding a bicycle without handle bars."

June laughed openly, as followed by four of the five horses, they started walking back toward the gate. "I guess you could describe it that way, but I think it's a bit more complicated than that."

Roy, picking up on the conversation, took the initiative. "Perhaps you'd both like to try again?"

Paul could see sincerity in his offer. He glanced at Scott and seeing confirmation, graciously accepted. "I think we'd like that."

"Then we'll go out this afternoon," Roy confirmed. "The horses could certainly use it. It seems we never get enough time to ride and they need some conditioning for later this summer."

"I have people to visit and calls to make today, so it'll have to be the three of you," June advised.

Moments later Amy and Sandy appeared at the doorway of the mobile home next to the horse pasture. There was a quick exchange of hellos, but when Amy's eyes remained on Scott, Roy's attention turned to the girls. He could see a chance to do something with his granddaughters, whose time always seemed in short supply. "Would you girls like to go out riding this afternoon with your old grandpa?" He received a positive response from the younger, Sandy, who saw an opportunity of being away from Saturday chore assignments.

"Are you going, Scott," Amy asked, looking for confirmation before committing herself.

"Yeah, Dad and I."

Scott's affirmation brought Amy's response. "Love to, Grandpa."

"Okay then meet us at the hitching rail at two."

"Aw, Grandpa," Amy replied anxiously, "I was kind of hoping Scott might go downtown to the street fair with us after lunch. Sandy is meeting with Jennifer and Trudy and I'm supposed to meet some other kids from school. Can't we go this morning?"

Over the top of his gold-rimmed glasses Roy gave her a condescending look, but reneged to her enthusiasm to get Scott off away from adult supervision. "Okay. Far be it from me to interrupt the working schedules of the local young people. Is eleven all right with everyone?"

"How about ten?" Amy suggested in the spirit of bartering.

A one-sided, negotiated settlement was quickly reached. Roy repeated the time so everyone was sure. "Amy, Sandy, be there by eleven."

Roy and June continued their farm tour, showing their visitors the various barns, outbuildings and equipment used in the farm operation. When they returned to the house they had only ten minutes to get back to the horse corral.

Arriving early, the girls already had the five horses tied, roughly brushed and two already saddled. Another ten minutes and they were in the saddle and on their way out the driveway to the road. Roy led, riding a cantankerous Monty with Paul following on Old Red, the beginners mount. Sandy had Blackie and Amy rode Duke, following Scott mounted on Burr. They moved alongside a field of tall grass then up a long hill and into the woods on a path that seemed to be an established trail.

The area was for the most part wooded, but the trees ranged from stands of large evergreens to open areas of young growing forest. One part had obviously just been logged off a few years earlier and there was evidence of many small trees having been cut and left to die.

Paul noticed the dead trees. "Roy, why are all these dead trees laying around?"

Roy stopping his horse and turned it around. "After a logging operation we plant young evergreens to produce the next forest. When the earth has been disturbed, a tree called alder grows in profusion. Early this spring cutters came in to remove the faster growing alders. Those are the dead trees you see."

"But why did they have to be removed?" Paul asked curiously.

"To allow the evergreens the light they need to grow another crop."

"Can't they be used for something?" Paul asked.

"In twenty years or thirty years they would have some value, but by then they would have shaded out the more valuable evergreens," Roy replied with a smile, "They've already performed their service to us."

"Their service?" Paul asked quizzically, looking at the waste.

"We let them grow for a few years because they fix nitrogen in the soil for the evergreens. Now they'll just recycle all the nutrients back into the soil." He pointed to some evergreen trees just showing evidence of rapid growth. "To encourage maximum growth, in about twenty years all of these growing evergreens will likewise need thinning and spacing to leave only the best. By that time many will be large enough to be used for paper pulp. The same thinning processes happen in nature, but much slower and don't provide the paper by-product. Still it will take another fifty years before these evergreen are ready to harvest for lumber. Growing trees is just like growing any other farm crop. If you want a crop of onions, you plant, seed and finally get to harvest the bounty of your efforts. With trees, it's just a longer commitment."

Roy turned Monty around and the trail soon had them going down a long hill and back into some dense timber. Stopping again, Roy indicated with a broad sweep of his hand, "You see this stand of timber, Paul? This area was burned off by a fire sixty or seventy years ago. Alders don't seem to grow much unless the soil has been disturbed. In those days no one thought about replanting. They figured the trees would go on forever and reforestation was left for nature to do. The evergreens grew back, but the owner of this land never sent anyone in to thin. They're way too dense and growth has been slow. Finally the natural thinning process took over, you know ... 'survival of the fittest'. These tall, skinny trees, most of which are not more than six or seven inches in diameter, are already more than fifty years old. They didn't have the space and light available for maximum growth during the first twenty-five years when they grow fastest. In time, they will thin themselves completely, but will never amount to much during many human lifetimes. If this belonged to me, I'd cut, replant and manage it properly. If forests are managed and taken care of, we can have trees and forests to use and look at forever. Around here, however, I think people pressure will demand the land be used for other purposes."

"Why not let nature take care of it?" Paul asked.

"Because there is too much demand for lumber, wood and paper products in our wood and paper oriented, throwaway society."

"What about all of our recycling?" Scott asked, "We're going to decrease the paper demand."

"Recycling will certainly help, Scott," Roy returned, "but from what I've seen so far, people only recycle if it happens to be personally convenient or profitable. When it becomes messy the stuff just seems to end up in the general garbage. What apartment dweller can tolerate having several special sacks for collectibles standing around all the time? Even if all the recyclables are removed we still have a solid waste disposal crisis coming. Even now most large cities cannot site any new landfills. They have to ship their waste long distances for disposal. How long will it be before those places become communities that say 'no more'?

Roy continued. "Even our biodegradable waste gives constant trouble for the landfills because they give off methane gas. Some people say cattle give off methane that is destroying the ozone layer. While methane is a part of their digestive process, we also need to consider that domestic cattle have merely replaced the sixty to one hundred million buffalo who used to do the same thing. Methane is also an end product of the decomposition of our garbage commonly known as 'marsh gas'. Yet while snorting about the contribution of an integral part of their food supply, the same people are striving to preserve all the methane belching-swamps they call wetlands. Totally unrealistic!"

Roy moved Monty on, stopping often to comment on several other areas until a call was heard from the rear. "Come on, Grandpa," Amy shouted. "Let's go. This is supposed to be a horseback ride, not a lesson in forest practices and environmental awareness. We're coming to the open track. See what Monty can do if you open him up."

Roy laughed, for when he realized he had an interested listener, he responded by expounding on a subject of great interest to him. He had logged for many years to support his farm and got carried away. "Okay, you asked for it," Roy announced as they came out of the forest onto a long open stretch of dirt road. "What was it Captain Kirk said ... 'Let's see what she's got', except Monty is a he." Roy gave the horse a signal then took off at a brisk gallop. Everybody followed.

Paul remembered the gallop at Mrs. Wayburn's farm and relaxed in the saddle, allowing his body to go with the movements of the animal. He heard whoops of happiness from the two girls. As the speed increased, he could feel the power unwinding beneath him. The speed was invigorating and he decided he really did enjoy riding. While we travel we'll have to take advantage of any opportunity to do this again. More than a half mile disappeared under the thundering hooves before Roy slowed. The horses continued a prancing walk as they were not yet willing to quit.

"Paul, why don't you take the lead for a while? I'd like to see how you do with Red."

"But I don't know where we're going."

"I'll tell you when we have to turn again. Just move him forward." Roy turned Monty around and fell in behind. Paul placed his hand on Red's shoulder and he moved out briskly.

"Well I'll be," Roy remarked as he watched the normally plodding Red horse pick up a fast comfortable walk. "You say you've ridden only twice. I've noticed I haven't had to hold Monty back to let Red catch up. What have you been doing to him?"

"Dad has a way with animals," Scott said from his position behind Roy. "I think they like him".

"Well there's no doubt he has something going for him," Roy laughed. "We'll soon be coming to another open stretch. How about another gallop, Paul?"

As the trail came out onto a roadway with a wide shoulder, Paul put his hand on Red's neck. Asking, he received speed for a distance, and then asked for a walk again as they entered another trail with overhanging tree limbs. Directed to several more direction changes he soon saw the farm out across another field of tall grass. Five minutes and they were back at the hitching rail removing the saddles. The ride had taken well over an hour. They brushed the horses and while putting the balance of the gear away, Roy invited them to ride again in the morning. All agreed.

%%%

After listening to Scott and Amy discussing their visit to the street fair to meet with the other teenagers, Paul saw Scott looking his way. He caught Scott's look and smiled his approval with a double raise of his eyebrows. I can see Scott is captivated by Amy's attentions and I know trying to hold back natural hormones would be trying to go against Scott's very human nature.

Roy put his hand lovingly on Sandy's shoulder. "And what are you going to do this afternoon, granddaughter? It looks like your sister has a boyfriend."

Sandy blushed then regained her composure. "I'm meeting some girls from school, Grampa. Amy can have the boy friends."

Roy laughed at his granddaughter's reference to boys and was glad her time was yet to come. One blooming teenage girl at a time was all her family could tolerate. The telephone rings so often for Amy at the Doran house, everyone is beginning to answer, 'Amy's answering service'.

Amy and Sandy slipped into the house when they heard Kathy calling them and Paul, Scott and Roy led the horses back to the corral.

Roy urged Paul and Scott back home. Apologizing to June for being late for lunch, Roy told of their plans to ride again in the morning.

After a hearty lunch, Scott left to meet Amy and the Fosters invited Paul down to visit the street fair with them. The rest of the afternoon they looked at the displays of wares and artwork for sale by many local artists. Paul saw many beautiful things and marveled at the creativity of the human species, but with a vagabond lifestyle there was no way he could justify purchasing anything. A little while later he saw Scott, Amy and Sandy with groups of contemporaries. They had gathered in front of a grandstand built in the middle of what was obviously the main intersection of the small town and were enjoying the sounds of a very loud band. Paul motioned Scott over and reminded him to give himself enough time to clean up before their dinner engagement with the Dorans. Scott nodded his understanding and rejoined his group.

While Roy and June talked with some friends, Paul found a phone booth and called Liz Baynes with a status report. Liz agreed, without reservation, when Paul requested a special favor.

Kathy had a wonderful meal prepared for them. Afterward, as the adults talked freely about life on the farm, Paul glanced often at Scott and the girls sitting at the kitchen table involved in a noisy board game they apparently thought great. It always makes me feel good, to see Scott in a relaxed atmosphere with other young people, he thought. I appreciate what he's been missing with our life of being constantly on the move. I wish I could provide something better for him, but the major goal of our joint existence has to be staying ahead of Fox. He heaved a sigh. Wishing doesn't make things so and we can just try to make the best of everything life does offer. With time, perhaps the government can accept my presence and Scott's mixed heritage without fear, or demand. Then we can put all of this behind us.

When Paul and Scott returned to the Foster's around nine thirty, Roy noticed Scott looking contemplatively at the large rack of antlers mounted on the living room wall and he walked over. "They're from an elk I shot about fifteen years ago."

"You also hunt?" Scott asked grimly.

"This island was almost a wilderness when I was a boy. We had to hunt to survive during the hard times of the Great Depression. We didn't have money to buy much, and what meat and crops we raised had to be exchanged for the staples we needed. It was our way of life. I still love to go hunting and bring home game as it adds variety to our diets."

"But your wild animals are so beautiful," Paul said with sensitivity as he walked over.

"Are they any more or less beautiful than a cow or a sheep?" Roy asked, somewhat impatiently. "Does the fact an animal is considered domestic mean it wants to live any more or less than a wild animal? It's an animal with a will to live, but a destiny to die."

I guess that is the reason we run from Fox, Paul thought as he looked at the seriousness of Roy's look. "I guess everything does want to live, doesn't it?"

"Right," Roy returned. "That will to live is shared by everything alive. It goes back to what we were discussing this morning about the reproductive potential of the sheep. If everything born, lived, every species has the potential to destroy its habitat."

"That does seem to be true, if one thinks about it," Paul acknowledged.

"I have observed the life cycles with the deer," Roy offered. "They were an introduced species out here on the island," Roy continued. "Shortly after being introduced, their numbers increased rapidly because there were no natural predators here. They became crowded and constantly overgrazed their food supply. They also decreased in size as they continued interbreeding. Then hunting became popular as a sport and it reduced the numbers, bringing them back into balance. With people moving here in increasing numbers there is much more hunting, but less and less habitat. Now someone has seen fit to introduce coyotes, causing further stress on the deer populations. In addition the people who move from the city to the country always see the opportunity to have that big dog they always wanted. Seeing what a pack of dogs do to a deer is something one cannot soon forget."

Scott was almost afraid to ask the obvious question, but unable to stop, asked anyway. "What do they do?"

"I don't really think you want to know," Roy offered sincerely in deference to Scott's apparent sensitivity.

"Tell me?" Scott asked hesitantly.

"People won't believe it's the act of their friendly household pet. Selective breeding and human companionship has brought about changes in the dog. When something runs, it chases and becomes the wolf of its ancestors. The dog isn't really hungry. He just kills or maims, and then moves on to kill again and again, rarely eating anything. We've had dogs in the sheep before and I don't want to get into the graphics." Roy paused when he saw Scott grimacing and returned to what he wanted to say earlier about hunting. "Anyway, the deer numbers are diminishing, depleted by the combination of people and predators. I haven't hunted around here for years, because unless they become a pest, our deer need all the help they can get.

"I still like to hunt elk though, but even the elk hunt has become more of a social gathering of old friends. Where we go hunting is at the 6,000 foot elevation and the hunt is in early November. It isn't unusual to be hunting in snow. One year it snowed so much we never got to hunt at all. Everybody left their rifles in camp and spent the day with shovels in their hands digging a way out. If we had stayed, we would have had to walk out and leave our trucks there for the winter. Over the years our camp has managed to get an animal on the average of one year out of five and we divide whatever we get with the whole group, so everyone gets just a little."

"The guys can have the hunting," June laughed from the kitchen. "I don't like to be wet or cold. Believe me, shoveling snow is hard work and definitely out of my line." As everybody turned to look at her, she announced, "Roy, it's getting about time we turn in. We have guests coming by noon and if you're going riding in the morning, you're going to have to get an earlier start."

########################################

Morning dawned warm and sunny. As Paul started to roll out of bed he recognized serious pain in some of the muscles of the body and it became more evident as he tried to take a step. He got his sphere out of the pocket of his jeans and bathed himself for a few moments in its healing light. Replacing the sphere, he sat on the edge of the bed to pull on his pants. His movements woke Scott, who sat up and blinked his eyes.

"What time is it?"

"I think it's time to get up. I heard someone talking in the other room a little while ago and I think I smell bacon frying."

Scott got up and groaned then sat on the edge of the bed as he reached down to the floor to pull on his socks. He mimicked one of his father's old statements. "Something is wrong with this body."

Paul looked at him, somewhat surprised. "What?"

Scott began to laugh. "I think it was the long ride yesterday. I'm stiff."

"Stiff, that's what you call it?" Paul questioned.

Scott began to frown. "I wonder why I didn't get stiff when I rode the horse at Mrs. Wayburn's farm."

"Maybe you didn't ride as long," Paul offered. "I experienced 'stiff' that time too, but I was riding a lot longer at Antonia's than I did yesterday." Paul moved around the bed to get his shoes.

Scott noticed his father didn't seem to be walking strangely. "Aren't you stiff?"

"I didn't like 'stiff', so I fixed it."

Scott looked critically at his father, "You fixed it?"

Paul held up his sphere with an impish grin and observed his son's look of acknowledgment. "I did the same at Mrs. Wayburn's while she arranged our exchange with Fox." Paul put the sphere back into his pocket.

"Hey, what about me?"

His father shot him another kidding glance. "I figured you'd want to practice."

"Be serious, Dad, I might try to fix the wrong thing. A black eye, I can see, but this isn't visible."

"You know, you need to do more practice with your sphere or you'll never get the hang of it."

"I know, but time wise let's be practical. You're right, I think I smell bacon frying."

"Okay, this time," Paul conceded, "but next time you do it yourself." He graciously repeated the process for his son.

"Thanks," Scott said as he continued dressing. When he finished they wandered out. As with the preceding morning, June was making breakfast.

"Do you two still want to ride today?" she asked, certain they must have sore muscles and might not want to push it.

"I'm looking forward to it," Paul replied cheerfully, as he and Scott came over to the stove where June was pouring pancake batter on a grill. "I really enjoyed riding yesterday."

June watched as they walked around the house and could hardly believe neither seemed distressed at all by the long ride. She glanced at her watch. At bedtime, last night, Roy said there was something unusual about Paul. I want to see this for myself so I'm going to join them this morning. She addressed Scott with the message that provided her a horse for the ride. "Amy was over before you got up. She asked me to tell you she can't go riding this morning because she has to help Kathy prepare some things for the picnic." The phone rang and June answered.

Scott heaved a sigh. I am disappointed Amy will not be along, he thought. Even though, I can't be with her now, I can still enjoy the ride.

June hung up the phone as Roy walked out of the bathroom. "Hon, Kathy just called. Sandy is grounded again for not finishing her chores." As Roy poured himself a cup of coffee, June said with a tone of urgency, "I'd like to go with you, but we have to go right after breakfast. I have a lot of things to do yet to get ready for the picnic."

"Let us help you with breakfast," Paul offered, as he watched June pour another round of pancakes onto the griddle. "We'll set the table." He gave Scott the high-sign and they commenced to get the dishes and silverware to the table. When Paul returned to the kitchen, June handed him a plate full of pancakes and Scott another with the eggs and bacon. Roy poured four glasses of apple juice and placed them at the table while June gathered the remaining beverages. They left their dishes in the kitchen sink. They would be done later with the picnic things.

Scott saw his father retreat into the bedroom. When he reappeared in a few moments, he had the camera hung around his neck. They all left for the horse corral.

%%%

Paul's success with Red the day before had intrigued Roy, and June heard him tell Paul to take Duke. I think I'll bring up the rear, she thought. In that way I can watch. Personally, I think Roy must be seeing things. If, as Scott said, Paul is gifted with animals, Duke will prove or disprove it. Duke is a great horse for someone with a little experience, but he always has to test his rider.

Not apprehensive at all when told to change mounts, Paul caught Duke and tied him at the hitching rail. He placed his hand in the middle of Duke's face and the animal's eyes almost closed as they stood there together. Roy and June could not help noticing there did seem to be some form of communion going on between man and animal.

Roy and June proceeded to instruct Paul and Scott in how to saddle and bridle their horses and soon they were on their way. Red's shrill whistle could be heard for some distance as they rode away for he was left alone.

Roy led them to a different trail than the prior day. He looked over his shoulder several times within the next few minutes then turned partially around in the saddle to face Paul. "Are you kidding me about having ridden only twice before?"

"Well, yesterday made it three times," Paul returned with a smile as he snapped Roy's photograph.

As they continued, June watched intently from the rear. I don't believe this. I've never seen Duke respond like this before. There is no contest of wills; no dancing to test the rider; yet this man, with hardly any rein contact, has Duke moving totally relaxed. I'm glad I decided to come. I can hardly believe this, but what Roy said is true. This man is a natural. She turned her attentions to watching Scott in his dealings with the mousey colored Burr. Burr is easier going than Duke, she thought, but has a tendency to get stubborn if he doesn't understand what a rider wants him to do. That tendency makes him a less desirable mount for a beginning rider. She watched for a while. I believe this gift is not limited solely to the father.

Paul took many action photographs as they walked, trotted and galloped along interconnecting trails. The pace this day was considerably faster than the day before.

Returning, June left for the house leaving the unsaddling to the guys and pondering over what she had observed. I never believed the stories Roy used to tell about natural horse tamers could be true, but now I have seen some. It's truly amazing. Are they so secure with the horse they are totally able to relax and relay that relaxation to the animal? Maybe that's why they weren't stiff. I know I'm going to be stiff in the morning, because I haven't ridden for weeks. It also could be they're not telling us the whole truth ... but why? Reaching home, her thoughts, of necessity, moved to the unfinished chores for the picnic.

Roy, Paul and Scott secured the gear, brushed down the horses and put them away. Roy then announced he had to return home to help with the arrangements. Paul and Scott followed, freely volunteering their services. Their first assigned chore was to wash a large log picnic table and benches under a spreading apple tree in the yard that provided guest seating. When dry they covered it with a table cloth. Then Roy sent them scurrying here and there gathering additional tables and chairs. Soon Cal came to the house with two large barbecues and got the charcoal started.

June gathered supplies and everyone helped carry things outside to distribute on the tables. Paul realized that putting on a picnic for a large group of people made plenty of jobs for everybody. The invitation stated that non-alcoholic beverages would be available for all and asked that each family bring their choice of something to do on the barbecue in addition to a vegetable, salad or dessert dish for general sharing. Guests would be coming and going at their convenience all afternoon to avoid everybody trying to eat, sit and barbecue at the same time.

Roy drafted Scott and the men and they set up two portable restrooms in the machine shed near the house. In addition to two horseshoe pits in the yard, the family's regulation size pool table in another nearby building promised a great amount of friendly competition. Prizes would be awarded for the most unusual horseshoe and pool shots, whether planned or not. Scott volunteered to help Cal wrap the prizes and when he saw one to be a tee-shirt of a popular rock group, he grinned broadly. "All right. That's the one I'd like to have. Maybe I can get Dad to win it for me."

"Does your dad play?" Cal asked.

Scott grinned broadly as he examined the shirt again. "Yeah, I've seen him clear the table before," he blurted out without thinking in a moment of family pride. Immediately realizing his mistake, he glanced at Cal hoping he wouldn't question him further. When Roy called for help, Cal passed the wrapping chore on to June, and Scott breathed a sigh of relief.

Kathy, Amy and Sandy came over at eleven to help with last minute preparations. They brought four steaks and a large bowl of potato salad to the gathering.

Sharing in the work made Paul and Scott begin to feel at home among these people and they happily pitched in whenever and with wherever they could. Paul would ask for definitions of many unfamiliar farm words and expressions they used and no one seemed to mind taking the time to answer. After a while Scott noticed the family seemed to be enjoying it and caught his father's attention enough to convey a cease and desist look.

Finally, with a sigh of relief, June advised she thought everything ready. Shortly neighbors and guests began arriving with food in amounts unbelievable to the two vagabond travelers. Most walked in, but some drove down the long driveway, delivered their food and passengers, and then drove out to park their cars along the road. After the first group of guests arrived and somebody added items earlier forgotten, the whole affair seemed to take care of itself.

Scott grimaced when he and Amy walked into the poolroom and Cal began kidding him about his boast about his father's ability with pool. Soon others joined in and in a moment of frustration Scott finally felt unable to do anything other than take the challenge. "I'll bet you he can take them in five." Almost immediately he received several takers. Having some money in his pocket, he now felt a very masculine pride to back his claim. A friend of Cal's stepped up to hold the wagers.

Paul had just been introduced to some newly arrived guests when Cal approached, tapping him on the shoulder. "Hey Paul, your son's been doing more than just a little bragging. He says you're a real pool shark."

"I ... uh," Paul stumbled, "need to help Roy and June."

Cal noted Paul's embarrassment. "Come on, give us country boys some real competition."

Paul looked at Roy, hoping for another introduction, but instead Roy said, "Go ahead, Paul."

"I don't, uh ... really think I...

As Cal had with his classes in mind two days earlier, it became obvious that 'no' was not an answer easily accepted. "Come on. It's all in good-natured fun. Besides your son picked out a prize for you to win for him."

Paul saw Scott standing in the doorway of the poolroom nodding his head. "Okay," Paul agreed, "but only if I can describe the geometrics of each shot." His mind centered on the speed, weight, loss of inertia from impact, distances and angles of this game known here as pool. In many ways it reminds me of games at home relating directly to calibrations in mapping and navigating aboard the ships.

I think I'll play it safe, Scott thought, as his father walked over toward him. "I told them you could clear the table in four shots," he whispered. He grinned as Paul moved to the other end of the table. I'm sure he probably can do it in the one he once offered, but suggesting a specific number will provide him more of a challenge.

Starting with the break, Paul narrated each shot with a detailed description of the angles and physical forces involved. The players watched and listened in total awe when a banked, fourth shot sent one ball into a side pocket; then clapped loudly as the cue ball banked three times amid the remaining seven ball and a light tap sent the eight ball into the designated corner pocket. Paul saw many of the guests handing Scott some money and asked Amy about it. He then motioned Scott outside, giving Amy a subtle look not to follow. When confronted Scott explained the bet, but received his father's firm decree. "You have to give it back. Now!"

"Dad, they wouldn't stop needling me," Scott returned immediately with conviction. "When they took me up on the bet I had to back it up. So I was forced into the bet. Besides your demonstration was worth the money." His jaw jutted out in defiance. "It was a valid wager, and they figured the odds of you making it were definitely in their favor. I should be able to keep it."

Paul gave his son a condescending look. "They might have thought the odds were in their favor, but are you proud of deceiving me, Scott? You were being slick again. You even gave yourself an edge by asking me to do it in four instead of the five you bet. This wasn't for bus fare or a tee shirt. All the people here today are Roy and June's guests."

Scott observed an unwavering look on his father's face and returned the four dollars for a clear conscience.

########################################

The party continued through the afternoon and into the early evening. By eight only one guest remained. He and his wife had arrived late and though she visited for only an hour then left for home, her husband challenged Roy to a couple games of pool. June joined the two in the poolroom when Kathy volunteered the rest of the family, including Paul and Scott, to complete the remaining clean up.

Sandy and Scott were doing dishes, while Kathy and Amy put away left over picnic supplies and made sure the dishes and pots returned to their usual places. Paul helped Cal put away the tables and chairs earlier collected.

"Hey, everybody," Amy volunteered, "we'll finish the rest. Why don't you go join Grandpa and Grandma."

"Yeah, Dad," Scott urged.

"No, thank you, daughter dear," Cal replied. "That's Charlie Fisher out with the folks. I'm kind of tired and don't feel like arguing."

"Arguing!" Paul returned in surprise. "About what?"

"Oh, Charlie's always on an environmental kick and now he's into controlling growth here in town. Kathy and I have already disagreed with him and I think he's given up on us, but he's going to try to get the folks cornered to gather supporters. That Charlie is really spaced out."

Paul's eyebrows shot upward. "Spaced out?"

"We think his ideas are shortsighted and self centered," Kathy replied. "Why don't you go out to the poolroom and listen if you're interested. You be the judge. But when things begin getting hot, will you try to rescue Dad and June."

Paul puzzled momentarily. "Will they need rescuing?" he asked.

"After about ten minutes with Charlie, I think they might really appreciate it. In fact, I'd be willing to wager they're not playing pool any longer."

"Why don't we all go out and rescue them?" Paul suggested.

"No, thank you," Cal stated bluntly. "This has been a really good day and I don't want to take a chance on ruining it now." He put his hand on Paul's shoulder. "You can go. We can take care of this."

"I think I will," Paul returned. "I would like to hear what somebody who is 'really spaced out' has to say." He turned to Scott, "How about it? Maybe after I rescue them, I can give you another pool lesson."

Scott looked around from his place at the sink. "You mean give me another geometry and physics lesson, don't you?" He grinned broadly. "I'll just finish helping Amy, and then she wants to listen to some tapes. Maybe later."

Paul smiled at his son and rapidly raised his eyebrows in understanding of Scott's more basic interest. As he walked into the pool room and looked around, he noticed the pool balls on the table and nobody playing. Smiling, he nodded to Roy and his friend and received reciprocating nods acknowledging his presence. Walking in front of the chair June occupied, he excused himself and quietly sat nearby.

"Charlie," Roy said, returning to his guest. "I'm not interested in this growth control you're trying to peddle."

"You've got to be interested. So many people are moving in, we're losing control of our own community."

"This isn't the only place people are moving. Does freedom of choice sound the least bit familiar?"

"I just want to keep so many people from moving here," Charlie returned. "Don't you?"

"I don't like to see this rapid growth either, but I see little you can do to stop somebody..."

"Yes, there is," Charlie interrupted. "We can band together behind strict regulation of future development. If we don't, these new people are going to destroy our way of life."

"So you think passing some laws will stop it. If you want to live under laws that can stop others from pursuing their dreams, you should have moved to China or Afghanistan," Roy returned. "In this democracy you can't tell people where they can or cannot live. I'm afraid I still support the basic American concept that an individual has a right to choose."

Frowning, June asked, "Charlie, how long have you been living here? Two, or three years?"

"It has been three wonderful years since we left the big city rat race," he replied, smiling pleasantly.

"Did you know Roy has lived here his entire life?"

"I've heard that from others around town."

June shook her head. "Then from his point of view, you' are one of 'these new people'. Without somebody making room, you wouldn't be here. Someday soon we will have to do the same for others."

Charlie looked gruffly from Roy to June. "I've heard around town, you're planning to sell out to a developer. Our open space will disappear to development and even more people will come."

"I've heard that rumor going around myself," Roy returned with a grin. "I will admit I didn't try to quash it because I wanted to see how people around here would react to possibly losing what they have come to think of as 'their' open space. You're acting like most everyone else about 'my', not 'your' open space."

"You mean it isn't true?" Charlie asked, hopefully.

"Charlie, before I was old enough to wear long pants, I decided I wanted to spend my life here. I will not deny developers have approached us, but I have no intention of selling out until I have no options left. Like June just mentioned, that time is getting closer every day because it's just taking too much of our income just to keep the farm."

"The offers they have dangled in front of us are almost like winning a lottery," June offered. "Still, as long as we have our health we're happy. We don't need a lot of money to do what we love."

"Good," Charlie returned, "because everyone enjoys the rural atmosphere your farm provides."

Listening to everyone, Paul's head moved from one to the other. I can think of questions to ask, he thought, but perhaps I can learn more by listening to them talking out their frustrations.

"Don't misunderstand," June corrected, "We still have expenses. Unless we manage to win a lottery, just the increasing taxes may make it necessary to sell parts of the farm. Having what someone else seems to value highly, makes it continually more expensive to keep it together."

Roy looked distressed. "Part of that responsibility is yours Charlie. You ran from your 'rat race'. You came here seeking a simpler life, and then brought big city ideas with you. Retired and with time on your hands, you form boards and committee's to impose restrictions and obligations on the serenity and quality of the life that attracted you. You call them improvements and by popular demand you move to finance what I feel is unnecessary with long term debts and higher taxes for me to help pay.

"This farmer didn't need or ask for an art center, a boat harbor, ball fields, a swimming pool, or more parks. Our livestock didn't need three new schools or a new fire truck. For most of my life I have gotten along without a hospital or a medical emergency unit. The stock also didn't impose the need for a sewage system and hopefully they don't get out on the road except for trips to the livestock market. We are part of a growing city, but this farm's impact has changed little in the past fifty years. Operating at a static capacity, our income doesn't increase noticeably, but our expenses have escalated. I can only say I hope being next to our open space isn't the reason you chose to build your new home."

"We chose this place because it provided open spaces and a chance to wander through green fields or a forest and have animals to watch right out our living room window."

"If you wanted a lot of open space why didn't you buy a place out in the country?" June asked. "That way you could enjoy your own' green places' and have animals to watch out of every window if you wanted."

"A big place is too much for us to take care of and Delia wants us free to do some traveling."

Roy laughed and shook his head. "Now you've admitted to something we've understood for a long time. The people around here want us to continue working for almost nothing on a place bigger than we need, so when they choose to be around they can enjoy animals on an open space they have no responsibility to take care of."

"I thought you liked farming," Charlie spouted.

"We do, ... but we're not getting any younger."

"But by planning, we can stop the growth around here so you can keep your place. The Urban Growth Plans being suggested will encourage people to live in the cities."

"Charlie, this is a city!" Roy returned his irritation evident. "Who is going to choose for everybody else in this city ... a city that according to you has too many people already."

"I'm talking about the big cities."

"And who is going to chose for them, you?" June rebuffed. "In a capitalistic society, wealth normally becomes the deciding factor. You know ... the ability to buy whatever you want. Is that what you want to have here, a place only for the rich with the big cities as convenient closets for the less fortunate? Out of sight, out of mind? We all know where you would choose to live."

"Like you said," Charlie replied smugly, "I'm already living in a city."

"But as the years go by, like us, you may not have the necessary capital wealth to live here either."

"For now I'm just going to enjoy the freedom I've found out here and not worry about it. I love seeing lush green fields and watching your animals."

"It seems everybody does," Roy groused, "Of course, last spring when we spread the manure from the barn on those green fields, one of those 'green field' lovers called the police complaining about the smell and demanding we stop doing the chore necessary to keep it green. We also hear complaints about flies and mud, but those things are a part of keeping animals. Hey, they moved around a farm, not the other way around. And another thing that bothered me. This spring we got a visit from the Health Department. It seems somebody filed a complaint accusing us of nurturing rats, another one of their wild creatures. They charged us with spreading 'our rats' around the neighborhood. I informed the official that if I feed our rats well, they don't leave home. He returned in a little while to tell me the rat farmer was the very person who filed the complaint. Perhaps I should have filed a complaint. Her massive compost pile had become a grocery store for rats."

"What really irked me," June offered, "is she called the law rather than us in the first place. So many people say they like country living because of the friendliness of their neighbors, and then ask the law to solve what has to be a neighborhood problem."

Roy's lower lip set firmly. "I can ignore all that crap, but most all of you are totally unrealistic. You move from the cities to enjoy country living but are ignorant about farm animals. The only animals most have known have been pets. You climb through our fences to take a walk in a pasture, not considering any animal, large or small, is unpredictable and therefore dangerous. Most nature shows on television depict animals as smart, cute and cuddly. A cow is none of the three, and unless she knows you, don't ever try to approach her when she has a new calf. Never walk in among them because they can kick with the speed of summer lightning. Even a ewe, the most docile of farm animals can become a force to contend with if you manage to get her in a corner or between her and the grain bucket.

"Earlier this year I remember it was your wife who climbed the fence into the pasture, apparently showing somebody our lambs. I used some feed to coax our ram from mischief that would have laid them both with their faces in the mud. The name 'ram' is no misnomer and the laws of trespass, to date, don't protect us from injury claims unless we put up volumes of ugly 'no trespassing' signs. I really don't think anybody would feel they would add to the quality of life around here. You moved to a small city and built a new home. Now, your 'new way of life' is rapidly decreeing 'our way of life' may not be around for much longer. So enjoy it while you can.

"Your choice and the choice of many others decree that the only clear living income potential for this farm is planting and selling houses ... or marijuana. Since we don't want to spend these golden years on the inside looking out, marijuana doesn't seem an acceptable option. Now we're getting boxed into a corner by property taxes for improvements you demand, and insurance to protect our investment from people who feel crawling through fences to enjoy the view from our green fields, acceptable behavior. However, if they get injured when they encounter a 2,000 pound bull on their walk, they don't think twice about suing their open space for keeping a dangerous animal."

"Back up a minute, Charlie," June interjected. "Let's go back to the basics of economic survival. I assume you're not working since you always seem to have time for these special interest groups."

"My only special interest is in saving this area from developers," Charlie shot back.

"Fine, but I'm interested in how you make ends meet," she insisted. "You know - the bottom line."

"I sold my business in Virginia. With the proceeds from that, the sale of our home and some good investments over the years, Delia and I have a comfortable income."

"Then you feel financially secure?"

"Better than most, I guess."

"I'm really very happy for you," June offered sadly. "Perhaps you should consider buying some of our land. Then you could save it from those terrible developers."

"Whoa, we haven't got that much we can afford to tie up," Charlie laughed.

"That's sad, because neither do we," she confirmed.

"You still have to agree we do need to do something to discourage the rapid growth out here. All developers do is blight the land and they're only in it for the money."

June looked at him, her eyes narrowing. "And you ran your business in Virginia for fun? That is not normally how one in business earns the living that provides the funding to retire financially secure."

"I ran an honest manufacturing business," Charlie returned. "Developers are greedy."

"Developers are in business, just like you were," June acknowledged. "That's the capitalistic way ... 'buy, produce and sell', and I would venture to bet you didn't sell to the lowest bidder when you sold your business or your home. If you did, you and Delia are truly unique individuals. I even think you might make a good farmer, for you would steadfastly remain the steward for someone else's life style."

"Look, in trying to control the growth around here I'm working for you too."

"I don't really think so," June returned. "I think we are actually on opposite sides."

Roy grinned. "June is right, Charlie. You're asking us to join you to control development. Have you ever thought that along with controlling those greedy developers you will make it virtually impossible for us to make an advantageous sale of our land? What happens when we need capital to live on? Finding that wealthy philanthropist farmer could be difficult. The bottom line is other people have just as much right to move here as you did."

June looked sternly at Charlie. "Since you are so into protecting what's left of the environment here, may I ask why you built a new home instead of buying one of the many for sale around town?"

"We didn't find an existing home adequate for our needs."

"Your home is in a relatively newly developed area and I would estimate it to be in the neighborhood of 3,000 square feet. I find that excessive for only two people."

"We figure our children will be visiting from time to time."

"So you built for your children to move here. That's more people."

"They probably won't be living here."

"Then this excessively large house is just for you." Her eyebrows narrowed, unsympathetically. "Right now I'm going to tell you why I would never support your group, Charlie. After three years of living here, you figure your purchase of a developed lot entitles you to control everything else around you. From our point of view, that is questionable ethics. To preserve your life style, you are attempting to regulate what belongs to us. In so doing you're just as greedy as you accused that developer of being. Greed remains greed, whether for money or personal lifestyle."

"I think of it as saving our 'environment'."

June smiled back. "'These other people' are searching for the same thing you did; ... the same thing we did many years ago. There is one universal constant, Charlie. 'Nothing is permanent, except change'."

Roy looked at Charlie, slowly shaking his head. "I can appreciate folks wanting this farm to remain here, but have you ever considered that someday soon we may not be able to continue the work? We're not getting any younger. Like you, maybe we'll decide to travel some. Everybody tells us how much they like to watch us work the land. If it's so interesting, I would think volunteers would be popping up from everywhere to learn about it ... after all it provides a part of the food chain they depend upon."

"If it's getting too much, why don't you give the place to your kids? Make it a family affair and just live here. I'll bet your children would accept responsibility for the work."

"They don't all live around here," June returned. "Cal and Kathy do what they can, but they have their own pursuits of happiness to fulfill."

Roy could see where Charlie was heading. "I'm sure you would appreciate my children working for nothing to preserve your lifestyle. I'm sure they would think that very considerate of you. Now, may I ask why you decided to sell your business and move west rather than give it to your children?"

"They didn't want to stay in the city either."

"Did you divide the money between them?"

Charlie stumbled, "Well ... no. How could we? We needed it to build the house and continue to maintain our independence."

"Can you tell me how we 'maintain our independence' if we give everything we own to the children?" Roy returned. "The years spent at this business has made this land our independence nest egg."

"Then sell it to them and take the tax break," Charlie snapped.

"We don't need a tax break because we're not making anything," June returned. "We need something to pay the bills."

"I'm sure Cal and Kathy would love to give farming a try," Roy confirmed. "But tell me, what makes anyone think if already owning the land, this farmer can't make it any longer, how could the children do better starting out with the burden of purchase?"

"I firmly believe everyone should make their way in the world," June offered. "It is not equality when some roll along from generation to generation on a parent's efforts, while others must start from scratch. We have too many deserving young people unable to get a start. We're all supposed to be created equal, but some are 'born' considerably more equal than others."

Charlie looked critically at her. "We're supposed to provide the best for our children."

"By giving them our love, encouragement, trust and a home that develops good ethical values. As a society, we need to demand the best educational opportunities from all schools and instill in our children the expectation that they do their best. That is providing them the necessary tools to realize their fullest potential." She smiled. "Now, can I ask what your boys are going to do when they finish high school?"

"We have three boys and a daughter."

"You have four children?" she questioned, her eyebrows rising. "I guess I only know the two."

"Our oldest son and daughter are still back east. We have them through college, married and out on their own." Charlie smiled proudly. "We're expecting a third grandchild next month."

"So two of your children have already gone out into the world, found a place and started families. I assume you expect the remaining two to do likewise?"

"Of course, the older will be a senior this fall. He can't expect to stay with us forever," Charlie replied impatiently.

She looked at Charlie stubbornly. "So he is entitled to move in on somebody else's way-of-life … right?" She shook her head slowly, gazing at the man. "Wherever he chooses to go, I hope he doesn't run into someone like 'dear old dad', who has done some planning and passed some laws."

Charlie grimaced at the implication. "Okay, okay, I see the point you're trying to make, but you're deviating from the reasons for managing the growth we know is coming," Charlie offered.

"With increasing numbers of people, the future is living closer together, my friend," Roy returned. "Just look at history. A few hundred years ago, European civilization started tramping across this continent, subduing those in their way. 'Go West Young Man', was the suggestion to those dissatisfied with the status quo. Now, we're spread across that continent and the world. The 'West' of those days, is no more."

"There are still vast areas of open land all over the west," Charlie returned.

"There is in the east, as well, but you talk about everything 'out west' like it belongs to no one. Like in the east, most land has an owner, and it seems wherever anyone goes today, those already there feel like you, Charlie: Go some place young man, but stay out of my back yard. Those moving here are merely trading back yards with your children."

Charlie frowned, "You do have to agree we need to preserve the environment to leave some quality of life for the future."

"Certainly," Roy returned. "Where do you want to start?"

"It has been determined we need to save wetlands."

"You want to leave your grandchildren only wetlands? Are you implying a marsh is more important than a field of growing wheat or peas?"

"They provide places for water to percolate down into the ground to provide water for the future," Charlie offered.

"It's true. Most of this country's water is supplied by ground water and aquifer recharge is vitally important, but water surely percolates better through sandy ground than a waterlogged swamp. Lakes and swamps exist because water doesn't penetrate so recharge I don't see as a major reason for grabbing all the wetlands unless it's to take control of all the water. It has long been understood that the one who controls the water supplies, controls the land. As far as diversity, many species need no more than a water hole not vast expanses of wetlands. Are you implying wetland critters are more important than those inhabiting dry lands? By preserving only wetlands isn't a greater value being placed on a goose or the moose than on the rabbit or the antelope; a frog than a lizard; a mosquito or a bee?"

"I don't know all the reasons," Charlie returned.

"You support such a vast locking away of private land without asking for details?"

"Since they're not asking for anything else, they must have more information about relative importance available to them than you do," Charlie said critically.

"That's just it, Charlie, they're not asking for anything else ... yet," Roy returned sharply. "What I see you supporting being put in motion is something that as an owner of open land, has me frightened for my family's future."

"Why? We all have an equal stake in environmental protection."

"Because most of those wetlands you so easily keep saying 'we need' to preserve are not public lands. Who exactly is 'we'. Charlie?" Roy prodded. "All and collectively, I believe 'we' refers to the environmental needs of everybody and right now I'm not looking at what I consider a very well informed 'we'."

"The methods being used to provide those 'we want and we needs' are forgetting our very basic laws," June added. "It is called the Constitution and the Bill of Rights. A highly unequal burden for environmental preservation is being imposed on only one class of citizens, those who own larger parcels. That same class who now are being asked to carry the burden of preserving wetlands will next be required to provide your open space, forests and wildlife habitat and the 'we' majority are denying them compensation for the loss of their property. The laws that provide you the peaceful use of your home and lot are supposed to provide them with the same property rights. What you seek to establish are two classes of property ownership; that minority who are directed to contribute the resources 'we' decree necessary for everybody's quality of life; and the vast majority who benefit while contributing nothing."

"You can't just make a declaration to preserve something that belongs to somebody else, Charlie," Roy added. "The Bill of Rights clearly state that 'no person may be deprived of life, liberty, or property without due process of law'."

I remember due process in Scott's book, Paul thought. Charlotte considered the Constitution valuable enough to make its defense her life's work. On the taped interview I watched in her apartment, Paul Forrester said he received no due process when he was arrested and imprisoned in Moscow for photographing dissidents. After his experience, he said he considered Constitutional rights as very valuable. He thought the dissidents remained in prison. Paul narrowed one eye, wrinkling his brow. I wonder what is dissident?

"The drafting of our Constitution was well thought through by men with a firsthand understanding of land held by a chosen few who also maintained control of the government. Our founding fathers proposed a nation where the land remained in the hands of the people and wanted to protect the rights of all individuals. The documents they drafted and we, as a nation are still obliged to enforce, are definite in saying that private property cannot be taken for a public use without just compensation. That seems to be one thing you wish to forget."

June returned to the fray. "During the course of our history, many have been denied those rights because those in power did not believe all peoples, to be people. While we cannot turn back the clock to reverse what has gone before, we can show we have learned something from our past mistakes. If 'we' need wetlands, would you be so gung ho for preservation 'at all cost', if the landowners right to compensation cost you money?"

"Wetland protection isn't taking the land from anybody, June," Charlie returned belligerently.

"Just think a moment about what you're saying, Charlie," June rebuffed. "Damages are paid to people who live around an expanding airport because of increasing noise. This isn't any different. Whether you call it zoning, planning, environmental protection or noise abatement, when you deny an individual the use or enjoyment of any part of his property, it is depriving, plain and simple. Let's just say they can take control of our pond and lower field by calling it wetland that provides protection for an endangered species of frog. Your home, which borders ours, has the same characteristics and is an integral part of the same wetland ecosystem. What if they told you your home had to be removed to restore habitat for that frog?"

"They won't take somebody's home."

"That's exactly what I'm referring to. You infer protection of the environment is of the utmost importance. In equality, there should be no preferential treatment given to you just because you have a home there. In many cases inequality has already been granted, particularly if it also protects a water supply." She grinned. "What would you do?"

"I don't know for sure."

"Come on, Charlie," she thwarted. "Both you and I know you would demand compensation for your loss. What good would your lot and home provide you if you couldn't use it and also faced the cost of removing it? My fear is if this 'taking' attitude continues without proper compensation, how long will it be before those in power will be satisfied with frogs, toads, waterfowl, and mosquitoes? How long before some other group convinces them the forests are another vital ecosystem they need to control?"

"We do need to preserve our resource lands."

"'Our' resource lands? 'Our', is like the 'we' of wetlands, a collective. How long will it be before someone else determines deserts need protection as well? Do they come under another bureau with a limitless ability to claim control as though it was public resource? While things are free can 'we' consider the nation's agricultural land less than an essential national resource? While taking is free 'we' might as well have that too. Soon the individual rights of all landowners will be forgotten entirely and the right to take will apply equally to all. But I feel sure what belongs to the controllers and an all-powerful government that no longer answers to anybody will somehow be deemed exempted. That my friend, we called Communism! For my own peace of mind, I never want to see any government with too much power over its people."

"That couldn't happen here," Charlie retorted.

"It can if the trend I see continues to receive support from people like you."

"Besides all of our resource lands aren't private," Charlie replied.

"Correct," Roy returned. "I guess if the majority of the people vote to have all public resources locked up for the benefit of a few, the government will have to designate them all as public. In Washington State alone many millions of acres have already been set aside for future parks, wilderness and other designations of national interest. I think environmental protection requires the use of common sense choices by everybody. Locking things up will deny the people access to many resources designated as being more valuable for multiple uses. That hurts local economies and isn't without cost to everyone because the remaining private resources will have to make up for the future needs of an ever increasing number of all those people you wish to park in the cities."

"Have you ever taken the time to think about just how much land and resources it requires to supply one person living in a city?" June threw in. "I don't mean only food for we make substantially more impact on resources than just food. We need clothing and shelter. We want electricity or some energy source to heat or cool that shelter and refrigeration to preserve our food. We want fuel and roads to get to a job to earn the money for those necessities and more fuel and roads for pleasure. We want clean water to drink; water lawns and landscaping; flowers and gardens; and still more to keep our cars clean. We want the energy to provide hot water to bathe and wash clothes. We also desire entertainment and places to commune with nature for our mental wellbeing. Our wants represents the use of many more assets than our needs, and the list can go on and on."

"That's an interesting thought, June," Roy acknowledged. "In this rain rich area, we figure we can sustain five sheep and their current year lambs on about two acres of your open space per year. That includes grazing, hay for winter, and water. I would estimate a single person requires hundreds and hundreds of renewable and nonrenewable resource acres to provide food, power, water and other support necessities. The space and those resources required for each person to live are usually far away from where they reside. The United States covers just about three and a half million square miles, but there are over two hundred fifty million people and numbers are growing daily."

"They say the population might level off in the United States," Charlie offered. "It seems in the more industrialized nations people tend to have smaller families."

"But with better health care and food being provided, family size is increasing among the poor, and more so in the poorer developing nations," Roy countered.

"Then we take in millions of immigrants each year," Charlie added in dismay. "That's what I've been trying to tell you. Just look at what's happening already. They're flooding in from everywhere."

"Are you suggesting we stop providing food and medicine or that we stop taking in immigrants?" June asked critically. "We have always prided ourselves as being a nation of immigrants and being here first doesn't mean you're going to remain top dog. Can we just sit here in comfort and ignore starvation and misery around the world? If we can, we will have totally lost 'our' humanity."

"No, I'm not suggesting that," Charlie returned, slightly embarrassed. "We need to feed people, but they don't need to come here anymore."

"Their own land can't support them," June offered. "If they keep making them and we want to save them, they have to go somewhere."

"But why here? It isn't fair. My two oldest have voluntarily drawn the line at two kids. They decided it was the only way for them to maintain a decent standard of living."

"You should be proud of them, but even having only two children per family won't level general populations for a number of generations."

"How do you figure?" Charlie replied.

"Because infant deaths are down and longevity is increasing. Most extended families span as many as five or six generations. You also have to remember, even though family size in the United States has decreased, because of our standard of living an American child will consume far more natural resources during its lifetime, than ... let's say a child in India, China, or much of Africa. The American dream has become a goal the whole world would like to copy. Just imagine how fast we'll be using up resources then."

Charlie's brow wrinkled in frustration then he returned to his primary concern. "I can't do anything about the future of children in India, China or Africa. I can only try to get some laws regulating land use passed to protect the future of this community. I was hoping you'd do something to help, but I guess I was wrong." Charlie glanced at his watch then picked up his pool cue and returned it to the rack on the wall. "I guess I had better get on my way. I still have a number of places to stop tonight."

"Why don't we finish our game first?" Roy asked. "We only have a few balls left on the table."

"I'll take a rain check if that's all right with you?" "Goodnight," he said curtly as he headed toward the door.

Roy noticed Paul cocking his head to one side again with one eyebrow raised. He knew Paul had been listening very attentively to the exchange and decided to try for an outside opinion. "You haven't joined in, Paul. What do you think?"

Paul looked at Roy with concern and thought for a long moment. "Sometimes what seems a simple problem is not as simple as it first appears. You argued both sides of a variety of issues, but didn't come any closer to any long-term solutions. I would only like to ask if you feel there is a solution."

Roy heaved a heavy sigh. "I know we have to protect our environment, but I don't believe it is right to make it the financial responsibility of a minority who have, in good faith, maintained most of those open spaces. I cannot understand how judges can determine private landowners are not entitled to compensation for their losses, even if it was paying for an easement like they do around airports. Before supporting such legislation, too many people like Charlie are not looking at both sides of the issue. They can only think about what they want short term, not what they will lose in the long-term. The 'we need' attitude the preservationists are taking is to get as much as they can while they think it's free. Before agreeing wholeheartedly with their ideas, I'd like to check to see if they own a home then test their attitude toward the idea of ownership by planning a picnic in their yard. You will probably find a double standard existing."

"A double standard?" Paul asked.

"Yeah, it's 'what belongs to somebody else belongs to everybody, but what belongs to me is mine'."

"I don't think I quite understand entirely what you have been trying to say," Paul returned. "The government wants to take land away from farmers and other landowners like you, to save it for everybody?"

"In this growing residential area it doesn't affect us directly, Paul, but it does affect a great number of farmers and ranchers throughout the country. If we don't all fight against what is viewed as an unlawful taking of private property for a public use, the snowball will be starting to roll down the hill."

"The snowball?" Paul puzzled.

Roy looked strangely at him. "You know the way a snowball going down a hill gathers snow as it gains momentum? That is the way these laws will finally roll over everybody."

"I don't believe I have ever seen a snow ball."

Roy chuckled then shrugged his shoulders. "I just assumed..." Roy confessed. "I guess there are lots of people who have never seen snow. You must have lived much of your life in the southern states."

"I have lived in California," Paul offered hoping to avoid sounding slick with an answer that might lead only to more questions. He decided to offer comment instead. "I have read the United States Constitution and its Bill of Rights. I believe the words provide good guidance."

"So do I, but too many in power are forgetting those words in this protectionism furor." Roy frowned deeply. "While I can support the concept of preservation, I greatly fear the precedents being set in motion to simply deprive landowners of their holdings. Farmers and ranchers are crying out for the Constitutional protection designed to protect everybody. Instead they call them greedy ... almost criminals against society's needs. Without compensation they will become the next endangered species."

"I am well aware that endangered species needing protection are not all criminals," Paul replied with conviction.

"Presently, those protections are only being fully practiced in the criminal justice system, but they are there to protect everybody," Roy said sadly. "Our Constitution is the strength of this nation, but I question how long the nation will prevail if it continues to move in its present direction. If we leave the violation of these most basic rules of law unchallenged, we will each have allowed the forging of another link in the chains of oppression. Around the world we talk big of freedom and human rights, but look the other way while ours disappears."

"It is very easy to take freedom and individual rights for granted if it is not yours being taken," Paul offered.

"Well put," Roy returned.

"That taking may be achieved around here in the guise of planning for future growth," June added. "At that moment, many may feel satisfaction at obtaining their goal, but they do not see the looming threat of eventually losing their protection under the same laws."

"Wrong decisions made now, become the precedents for tomorrow," Roy added. "That is how law works. The impropriety of actions against those who have chosen to maintain their land while others chose to become rich, will ultimately affect everybody. When the individual becomes the most basic minority, and then the 'taking' will reach that wetland resource under Charlie's home as well. Then we will all be wearing the same chains."

"Wearing chains?" Paul questioned.

"Just a figure of speech. Like so many others around the world we will be like a colony of ants or a hive of bees; squeezed in as part of an organized society to serve a ruling government," Roy returned. "Freedom disappears one small step at a time and when everybody feels the effect, they will look back trying to figure out what happened," Roy said. "Then we can argue about who to blame. People should be considering the ramifications of what they are planning to do, before they do it. We must not let anybody take that responsibility away."

"Or don't criticize your neighbor for complaining until you have walked a mile in his footsteps," June offered.

"Yes," Paul said with conviction. "The ability to choose is necessary in any free society. It is deciding between right and wrong and accepting responsibility for one's actions." Paul thought of his decision to stay on earth. My friends on the ship disagreed with my choice, but they honored it. I also weighed the possible consequences, but I had to acknowledge Scott was my responsibility. Now, my choice has us in constant danger. He smiled, but I have also received many benefits. "Weighing the consequences of how your choices affect another and being able to feel how he might feel is the basis for all communication."

Responding to Paul's smile, Roy grinned. "I see a growing loss of ability to make individual choices when I see too many laws written to protect one from himself. It becomes most evident to me when I see somebody standing obediently at a traffic light waiting for the 'Walk' to appear when there isn't a car in sight. Personally, I interpret 'don't walk' to mean 'be ready to run'. Of course if a car or a police officer appears, I must accept the consequences of my decision; either being hit by the car or paying the ticket. That's freedom."

They heard somebody at the door and turned to see Cal stick his head in. "Dad, June, everything's put away so we're heading home."

"Hey," Roy urged, "how about another game before you go?"

"I'd like to, but I have to call it a day and take my brood home," he said as Kathy gently urged him back outside. "Tomorrow is Monday and it's back to the grindstone. In case you've forgotten, alternative schools operate year round."

Paul smiled at Cal. "I'm glad your school operates all year or we'd have missed seeing the farm and meeting everybody."

Cal returned Paul's smile. "I knew you'd enjoy coming out here. I'm assuming you'll need a ride back to town in the morning."

"Please," Paul confirmed.

"I'll pick you up at seven."

Roy looked at Cal, laughing half-heartedly. "So I guess the job must excuse you from the farm's biggest annual chore for another year. The long-range weather pattern indicates tomorrow is the day to start cutting the hay."

"I promise to be here and ready to work on the weekend," Cal confirmed.

"Frank called. Work also has him swamped. He said he'd be available only on the weekends."

Cal looked back meekly. "I sure didn't plan it this way, but the job feeds the family for the rest of the year. I'm really sorry."

"You can count on me to drive the hay truck, Dad," Kathy promised as she tried to urge Cal toward home.

"Thank you," Roy acknowledged. Looking dejectedly from one to the other, he heaved a sigh and feebly shot at one of the pool balls still on the table.

"Dad, I'm ready for that math lesson," Scott said as he and Amy walked into the room.

"I think Cal is right, Scott," Paul confirmed. "You and I better get ready to turn in. Tomorrow we hit the telephones again." Paul turned to Roy and June and smiled warmly. "Thank you for letting us stay with you. We have enjoyed it very much."

Roy returned Paul's smile. "You are more than welcome. We have enjoyed your company as well, and thanks for helping with the picnic."

As Cal's family left, Paul noticed the same personal exchanges of affection he had observed the night before. Can it be some form of family ritual? He wondered as he stored away the information for further contemplation. He heard Roy sigh deeply as the family left, and then saw him grinning impishly as their eyes met.

"Hey, maybe I can sucker you two into staying to help me... that is if you have the time and believe you have the muscles."

Paul wasn't sure, from the look on Roy's face, whether he was making a joke or not. "We can make the time if cutting hay is something important that we can help with." He remembered Roy's earlier statement about everybody's interest in watching the animals, but no one volunteering to help with the work. "About how much time will it take?"

"From two and a half to five weeks, depending on the weather," Roy confirmed.

Scott looked at his father, "Dad, what about finding Mr. Johnson ... and Mom? We need to get on with it."

Roy looked disappointed at the mention of the other commitment. "That's the way it always seems at haying time. Everybody has something else they need to do. I can't blame Cal, or Frank. They must have jobs to pay the bills." He heaved another heavy sigh. "It just seems like the timing is always wrong. Kathy and June always help, but they can't do the mowing or throw bales up onto the truck or stack in the barn. Putting up hay is work for men and there's not too many around anymore who want to work that hard."

Scott could tell by his father's look of concern he wanted to help. Somebody was asking and his father always found it difficult to say 'no' unless Fox was an obvious threat.

Paul read Scott's disappointment at delaying the search and decided to further explain. "We are searching for Scott's mother. Our first lead was she lived at a resort with a friend. We found the resort, but she and the friend had moved away without leaving a forwarding address. Now we have another lead we need to check on. She had a brother, a Mr. Johnson, who might know where she is. We understand he lives somewhere north of Seattle."

"Does this Mr. Johnson, have a first name?" Roy asked.

"Ron or Robert."

Roy's eyes rolled. "I can see why you need to get on with it. There are plenty of them and North of Seattle takes in a big area."

"We already noticed," Paul confirmed assuredly.

"But the haying wouldn't take all your time, Paul," June added. "You could use the farm as a base for your search. The job can include room and board and if you'll pay the long distance charges, you can use our telephone. That will make calling a lot cheaper."

Roy had already determined this man and his son learned quickly and always seemed willing to lend a hand. He saw a possibility of two extra sets of hands for at least the early part of the haying chores. "June's right. Except for the next few days of mowing, there will be plenty of time when June, Kathy and I can handle it. Also, most of the haying work is in the afternoon when the sun is warmest so most mornings and evenings will be available for making calls. While it's drying, you'll be free completely to follow up on any possibilities."

June, seeing a possibility of somebody to help her husband, continued. "Cal said you don't have any wheels. How do you plan to follow up on any leads? It's not an area with much public transportation."

"We might have to buy a car," Paul replied, "though I hate to spend the money for one."

"We have an old pickup truck we can let you use," Roy offered, picking up on June's hint. "It's not new or fancy, but serviceable. You supply the fuel and oil. The most I can afford to pay for your work is five bucks an hour, so you won't get rich; but you will have pocket money, transportation, and a roof over your head and full stomachs."

Paul thought on the combined offer. The pay doesn't compare to what I was making as a computer technician in East Wenatchee, he thought, but it's more than my starting pay had been. Each new experience makes it easier to blend in. It's also hard to turn down an offer of room and board, and the use of a vehicle to get around will definitely make the follow-ups easier. He looked over at Scott, silently seeking his approval.

Scott looked at Roy, and then back at his father. Shrugging his shoulders he thought of the young lady living across the street who liked movies, street fairs and horseback riding. "Okay," he said.

"We'll stay," Paul confirmed. "When do we start?"

Overjoyed at some masculine help, even if inexperienced, Roy replied with a broadening grin, "Early tomorrow morning. You can help me get the mowers on the tractors." A thought occurred, "Oh, for highway driving I will need your driver's license stats to get you covered on our insurance policy." Paul took out his billfold and handed Roy his driver's license. As Roy wrote down the necessary information he noticed the address. Paul is from Chicago and has never seen a snowball, Roy thought curiously. I guess I should question him further, but somehow I like this guy.

"This haying is a new concept to me, but I do like to learn new things," Paul confessed as he replaced his license in the billfold. "You're going to have to teach us what to do."

Roy looked at Paul and decided to find out just how much experience he had hired. "Have you ever operated any heavy machinery?"

"I've operated on some computers," he offered. "I've also operated some large and small machines, but I wouldn't consider any of them heavy for their size."

Roy smiled, "If you have any mechanical aptitude it should be easy. I'll teach you and Scott how to drive the tractors and operate all of the machinery we use for haying. That way if you're ever looking for a job with machinery, you can say you have experience."

"Thank you," Paul replied.

"All right!" Scott exclaimed, his eyes beaming. "I'm finally going to get a chance to drive something."

Scott's joy vanished when Paul replied, "Scott can't get a license to drive yet."

"He doesn't need one to drive farm tractors if he's doing farm work," Roy explained. He observed a grin return to the boy's face and grinned back. "I think I'll enjoy teaching you about farm machinery, Scott." Roy looked back at Paul for confirmation. "We have a deal, then?"

Paul's smiled broadened at his son's growing enthusiasm. "It sounds good to me. We have a deal." Paul accepted Roy's outstretched hand and they shook. "Well, I guess I better call Cal and tell him we no longer need a ride in the morning." June told Paul the number and directed him into the house to use the telephone. After a quick call, Paul returned. "Scott, if we're going to get an early start, I think we'd better say goodnight." Giving Scott a sign, they retreated back toward the house.

"Goodnight everybody," Scott echoed as he followed.

"Goodnight to you, and thanks," Roy returned, grinning broadly as he pushed the remaining pool balls off the table into the pockets.

"Goodnight," June added, happy her husband had some help. "We'll see you in the morning."

Safe within the confines of their bedroom Scott, asked: "Well what did everybody talk about this evening?"

"A lot of things," Paul replied honestly.

"Anything that would interest me?"

"Maybe," Paul offered, "but they talked about things I will have to investigate further. Yesterday, I saw a library downtown. Since we now have a job here, I believe I will spend some spare time there."

Not desiring an invitation to join his father, Scott decided to bring up something bothering him all day. "Dad, why have you been taking so many pictures?"

"I want us to have some memories of our travels."

"The way you've been taking pictures, we sure can't carry them with us even if they are small."

Paul's face reflected an impish grin. "I called Liz Baynes last night and asked if she would keep them for us. She said she would be glad to. So now when we get a bunch we can send them to her with a status report. I feel very strange about contacting her only when we need money."

"I know what you mean," Scott returned with a frown. "I feel guilty too." He started to grin. "But it is a great idea. I wonder why you never thought of it before."

"As I said once before ... I'm no genius. I only thought of it the other night after Roy and June showed me some old photographs of their family. I decided then that we should have something to show your mother. Then I got to thinking about Dale Taylor confronting me, saying I was a photographer who never took any pictures. If I'm going to be Paul Forrester, I have to think about taking pictures all the time like he would. If I don't carry and use the camera, I'd better join you in school and learn another trade."

"Well you should have thought about asking Liz earlier." Scott laughed. "Look at all the great shots of me you've already missed."

"You know there are two heads in this team," Paul laughed. "Why didn't you think of it?"

Scott laughed, "Like father, like son. I guess I'm no genius either."

########################################

Everyone was up by six. Paul and Scott accompanied Roy out to check the stock while June started breakfast. Breakfast was over by a quarter to seven and the three left for the machinery shed.

Roy showed them how to start the three tractors used on the farm. He explained the complex gear shifting and the load ranges to use for the jobs they would be doing later and he gave them time to practice driving the slow noisy machines around the buildings. Further experience would come while working. Paul hung the camera around his neck and took several pictures of a smiling Scott behind the wheel of a tractor. His son was happy for he was legally driving something, even though it wasn't a car.

It amazed Paul the ease with which Roy maneuvered a clumsy tractor into position next to the mowing machine. While Roy remained in the tractor seat, he gave instructions to Paul and Scott on how to attach two of the mowers. With a great amount of pushing, pulling and prying, tractors and the heavy grass-mowing machines became united. How simple this would have been with my sphere, Paul thought as he looked at his grease-blackened hands. Now I understand why Roy had his hands and clothes covered with grease and dirt the day we came to the farm. Paul looked around then back at his hands. I must refrain from wiping them on my pant legs as I see Roy doing. This is one of only two pair I have and both need to be preserved in good condition. Roy, noticing Paul's quandary, pulled a dirty rag out of his pocket and offered it.

By ten they started on the actual mowing job. Roy got Scott started with one mower and Paul on a second. It amazed Roy how quickly they caught on to mechanics of a job so obviously foreign to them.

When they returned to the house for lunch, Roy took June aside and told her about Paul being reluctant to get his clothes dirty. She disappeared up to the attic. Returning shortly she held out a pile of clothes. "Here are two sets of bib overalls for you Paul, and Scott here are some older Levi's to try on. They must have been put away when somebody outgrew them. They may not be fashionable, but they are in good condition. Feel free to get them dirty." She handed them over with a good-natured grin. "Roy says that's why they make washing machines." Paul and Scott thanked her and graciously took the work clothes.

June put an ample lunch on the table and everyone took a seat. Familiar with the amount of energy to be expended this afternoon, she knew the physically active bodies needed regular refueling.

With lunch over, the three walked out together to return to their respective jobs. Paul looked over what had already been done, and asked: "Roy, why do you want to cut off all the grass? What are your animals going to eat?"

As they walked out together Roy glanced at Paul quizzically. This man has no idea of why he's doing what he's doing yet he has put heart and soul into the project for over two hours. He frowned slightly before answering. "Hay is what we feed the animals, Paul."

"But the grass will lose moisture out in the sun."

"That's the general idea and I hope, very quickly. Hay is dry grass cut while the nutrition is still high in it. That's what hay making is all about."

"But why dry it?"

"To preserve it - the dried grass is what we feed our animals in the winter."

"Don't animals feed themselves?"

I can hardly believe this conversation is happening, Roy thought. I know many city people didn't know very much about farm life, but this one doesn't seem to know much about anything. "Grass doesn't grow in the winter when it's cold, so we gather the excess from spring and summer to provide food for the time when there is none."

With one eyebrow raised, Paul pondered Roy's answer for a long moment, the expressions on his face reflecting his deep contemplation of a principle totally foreign to him. While mowing, Paul had seen deer grazing along the edge of the field. "What do the wild deer do when grass is not growing?"

Scott watched a growing look of curiosity on Roy's face and gave his father the old 'enough' look.

"First, the deer were eating clover, not grass, Paul," Roy explained. "They are brush eaters and feed on the vegetation you saw growing in the replanted clear cuts when we went riding. In the winter, when things aren't growing they have to wander further and further to get enough to eat. On the farm our animals must be contained within fences. We can't let them eat our neighbor's gardens or rose bushes when grass is in short supply, so we provide for them. If we didn't they would starve in the winter." Roy chuckled to himself as he looked at his farmhand. "Just be patient. I think you'll understand more about the whys as we get further into the hows."

Scott gazed at Roy. Roy is puzzling again over why Dad doesn't understand. I didn't understand either, but I guess Roy assumes Dad should know just because he's older. I don't want to compound the problem by trying to cover for him because Roy might confront us like Dale did. Scott felt relieved when he saw his father's head cock sideways. Now I know Dad will just continue to observe.

Roy disappeared, returning shortly with a third tractor and mower borrowed from a friend. With three mowers going they made short work of two five-acre parcels of tall grass and started into a larger piece. In the afternoon, June came with snacks and drinks. She noticed Paul and Scott's pants were dirty, and laughed when they climbed down from the tractors and mimicked Roy by wiping their hands on them. "You two certainly learn bad habits quickly," she said with a wide grin. "After Roy and I got married, I chastised him for wiping his hands on his pants. What is it he always told me. Oh, yes. 'Isn't that what pants are for'?" She couldn't stop laughing at Paul's perplexed return look as he saw the grease and dirt already accumulated on his.

Paul continued to photograph various aspects of their current job and soon Scott approached him. "Dad, let me use the camera; I want to have you in some of our memories." Scott took a couple of shots of Roy and his father. Soon Roy confiscated the camera to take some pictures of them at work.

The mowing continued until June came out to announce dinner would be on the table in thirty minutes. It was eight o'clock and the end of a long working day.

After eating Paul discovered fatigue in the part of himself now composed of his very human body. Working with heavy machinery was hard and exhausting, but he felt good when Roy said they did amazingly well for beginners. Roy informed them the first round of mowing would be done the next day and they would be free for other pursuits.

After dinner, the three working-men opted for an early bedtime. June stayed up getting things prepared for morning. The lights finally went out and she joined her husband. Except for the musical chant of a large colony of frogs living in the pond near the house, quiet ruled over the Foster home.

########################################

At five-thirty, daylight was two hours old when Roy awoke everybody. After breakfast they checked the stock then returned to the tractors and completed the mowing by noon. Paul and Scott took control of the telephone to call all the Johnson's listed in the Whidbey Island phone books. A couple of possibilities took them into the pickup for a visit, but the day ended with no further leads toward Johnson or Kelly Simpson.

Paul noticed Scott's distress over their continuing lack of success as they got ready for bed. He felt badly and said with compassion, "Scott, we just have to keep looking. We will find him, and Mrs. Simpson, and we will find your mother." Scott simply nodded.

The next morning Roy approached Paul as he was consulting the phone directory to start calling again. "Can you and Scott stay around until noon? I need somebody on the tedder." Roy saw another inquisition coming.

"Tedder?" Paul repeated, his eyebrows rising at another unfamiliar word.

Roy smiled with amusement, marveling again at Paul's naiveté. He asks a question instead of waiting to see what the job requires. Sometimes I feel like a grade school teacher, but I do have to admit he learns fast. "The tedder lifts the drying grass up off the ground so it can dry faster. In this rainy climate our hay often gets rained on and it's necessary we get it to dry as quickly as possible."

"Oh," Paul returned, "and by lifting it off the ground the radiating energy from the sun better circulates the air through it."

"You've got it," Roy laughed.

Paul smiled, and fluttered his eyebrows. "Well, show me the way to the tedder."

"I'm going to get Scott started on that Paul, I want you to help me get the baler ready."

"Great," Scott replied eagerly, "I like driving, even if it is a tractor."

"Even if you've learned to drive already, its good practice, Scott," Roy laughed. "All my kids learned to drive on the tractors. There's no way you'll do any speeding; and out in the field you have ample room to learn to maneuver and shift gears smoothly without running into something."

"I'd like to learn the tedder too," Paul said as he snapped another picture. "Each new thing I learn is interesting." He looked at Roy and smiled. "I think I am enjoying helping you make hay."

"I'll check the stock this morning," Roy advised. "Would you mind moving what's left of last year's hay out of the big barn so we're ready to put in the new? It shouldn't take very long because there wasn't much left. Use the big truck and move it to the small shed over by the horses."

"Okay," Paul confirmed.

%%%

Paul had finished moving the hay long before Scott returned with the tractor and tedder. United they returned to the house. Roy came in ten minutes later. He looked worried. "Hon, it looks like that 475 cow is going to need some help."

June thought for a moment then frowned. "That's Anne. What seems to be the problem?"

"Water apparently broke sometime during the night. I watched her for a while. She's in heavy labor and not progressing."

"Is it something we need to take care of right away?"

Roy shrugged his shoulder and gave her a look of resignation. "I'm beginning to think so. Come on over and look."

"Okay, but we might as well go prepared. I'll be just a minute." June went down to the basement and brought back a large bucket and a bottle of disinfectant. She got some rags, and then went to the refrigerator and took out a syringe, needle and two small bottles from the bottom drawer.

"Do you want us to come along?" Paul asked. "Maybe we can help."

"I fully expected you'd come, Paul," Roy smiled. "You always said you like to learn new things." Roy turned to Scott. "Have you ever seen something born, Scott?" Roy observed a negative response from the boy. "Well, there's a first time for everything."

The four walked up the long driveway, across the road and over to a grove of fir trees behind the hay barn. They found the cow lying on her side straining. "There's still nothing showing to indicate a normal delivery," Roy said as he and June watched attentively. "Things just don't look right to me. June, you and Paul watch her. Scott you come give me a hand." Scott followed while June and Paul continued observing the animal from a distance.

"I don't like to help the birthing process unless we're sure it's necessary," June advised. Motioning to Paul to remain, she walked slowly toward the animal. Distressed, the cow got up and turned to watch her.

June walked back to Paul. "I don't want to spook her and have her run off. It's easier to handle her here."

"What are you looking for?" Paul asked.

"Any signs that the feet are coming and if there is one or two."

"But aren't they're four on a cow?"

June looked at him questioningly. "I'm guessing you've ever seen an animal born before, either?"

"I saw a baby born once," Paul replied, his eyes narrowing in wonder. "It was amazing."

June gave him a broad knowing smile. "... Scott?"

Paul, puzzled at first by her question, finally realized she was asking if he had seen Scott born. "No," he replied sadly. "It was another baby. I was far away when my son was born."

June noted his sad expression. "That's too bad. I think it's nice when a father wants to be there. I think it brings the family together."

"I'm sorry too. When Paula was born, I could see her parents drawn closer by the event."

June started explaining a normal birth as the animal laid down again to make another attempt at the final mission of mammalian procreation.

"It's all very much the same as with the baby except with most four legged animals the front legs are first to appear. Normally they're stretched out and the head is lying on top of them. The calf can't come if it's too large or the legs are not in that position. There isn't enough room." June grimaced as she saw the cow experience another heavy contraction. "They can also come back legs first. If it's backward we have to hurry the delivery or the calf might drown."

"Drown?" Paul asked with a look of concern.

"It starts to breathe when the umbilical cord can no longer pass oxygen. It gets pinched off as the body passes through the birth canal. At that point it will start to breathe. If not delivered rapidly the calf will inhale fluids into the lungs and drown." June looked back at the laboring cow. "There's a foot now. There should be another one very close by or were going to have to fish."

Paul's eyebrows shot skyward again then lowered just as quickly. Seeing June almost expected another question, he refrained from asking.

June could read the question on his face. Apparently he doesn't want to appear ignorant, she concluded. "I'll have to go inside and straighten it," she offered. Roy and Scott returned with Scott carrying the bucket full of hot water. Roy carried a set of heavy-duty obstetric chains and two long stiff ropes.

"There's only one foot showing, but I'm sure it's a front leg," June announced confidently. "My guess is a leg and shoulder are back. I don't think it's coming any further."

Roy dumped the chains into the water to which June added a tablespoon of disinfectant. She walked toward the animal, still lying on her side making another futile attempt to expel the fruit of her body. June motioned to Paul and Scott to follow her while Roy moved off in the opposite direction, rope in hand.

The animal saw three people approaching and began to struggle. As she got to her feet the visible foot slipped back inside. She looked apprehensively at them and tossed her head around threateningly. June kept snapping her fingers to draw the animal's attention while Roy circled around and approached from the rear. With one deft toss the rope encircled her neck and Roy ran toward a sturdy tree. The cow started moving away when she felt the rope, but Roy already had his end wrapped around a tree. She came to the end and bawled, fighting the restraint.

Paul and Scott just stood watching, unsure of what to do to help. Picking up a stout stick, June got behind and tapped the cow on the top of the tail. The animal rushed forward, leaving slack in the rope. Roy immediately pulled in the slack.

June followed and tapped again. Roy kept pulling up slack and with each rush the animal stood closer to the tree. Roy finally tied off the rope then approached her head and made a makeshift rope halter to replace the choking lasso. He made several attempts to get it on the cow's head, but she kept tossing her head and would not stand still long enough. As Paul walked into harm's way, Roy shouted a warning to his naive farmhand. "You better stay back, Paul. I don't want you to get hurt." When Paul persisted, Roy spoke forcefully. "Watch out for her head and hind feet!"

Without a word, Paul positioned himself directly in front of the terrified animal then put his hand out toward her. He stood silently and when she looked back, he looked directly into her eyes and stepped closer. As he placed his hand on the top of her head all fear vanished and she stood quietly.

"That's a neat trick, Paul. I never thought anybody could get through to a cow," Roy remarked. "I wish you'd tell me how you do it."

"I don't know how to explain, I just can," he replied nonchalantly, trying to have the matter pass as quickly as possible.

"Yes, we've noticed you and Scott share the ability, at least with horses," Roy added as he placed his halter on the animal's head and without further difficulty tied it to the tree. "I've heard of others with natural talents for taming and quieting animals."

Paul looked surprised. "You have?"

"I used to hear stories about horse tamers during the days when horses were our main source of power. Have you ever studied your family history? You could be related to one of them."

"I really don't think so," Paul replied confidently. "My family was not from around here."

Scott noticed Roy frown at his father's answer, but couldn't quite stifle back the smile that just happened. He knew his father was stating the truth, but a truth far different from anything Roy could have imagined.

June trimmed her fingernails short then took the rag and washed up in the warm disinfectant water. She then used the rag to wash the cow's present business end. Scott positioned himself to watch, while Paul moved to the rear, keeping his hand on the animal's hip.

June picked up one chain, pulled it back through the large oval ring at one end to form a sliding loop. She reached inside the cow and placed it snugly around the ankle she found near the opening and left the long chain end hanging. She reached further into the birth canal. Her hand passed by the head and pushed in further until she found the calf's chest. Gently searching by feel she found the problem. "The other front leg is back at the shoulder. I'm going to have to push the calf back into the womb to get that leg into a forward position." She started pushing against the calf. "The cow is going to have a contraction," she offered so the new farmhands could follow the process. As expected the effort met with opposition from the expectant mother. "Now I have to hold the calf in place until the contraction is over, and then I can continue pushing it back."

June held the calf firmly, pushing it back between contractions. The calf's leg disappeared again. She continued until her shoulder was against the cow. "Now I have to get things rearranged. I'm pushing its shoulder back and doubling the leg at the knee so I can bring it forward. ... Okay, here it comes. Now I need to get it alongside the other." She withdrew her arm and picked up the second chain, looped it around her wrist between thumb and forefinger and returned her arm inside. "Now I have to get the chain on the other leg." Another minute passed. "Okay it's on." She removed her arm again, and holding the chain taut, picked up the second. Tightening both, she offered them to Roy. "I think we're ready for the muscles."

Roy held the chains taut while June reached in again. "I want to double check the position of the head. Okay, it's in position on the legs," she confirmed as she withdrew. "We're ready when she is."

Roy applied pressure and the cow strained, moving the calf slowly back into the birth canal. "Scott, Paul, watch Roy. Do you notice he pulls with the cow's contractions?" She observed their nods and smiled. Two feet soon appeared together. A couple heavy pulls and the calf was fully into delivery position. "Notice that Roy is pulling harder but only on one chain at a time and now slightly downward rather than straight back. That follows the cow's natural shape and the curve of the calf's body. Here come the legs. There's the tongue," she announced. "Oh, oh, it's hanging out and imp." The nose appeared. "I wonder if it's still alive?" She squeezed the nose and wiped fluid from the nostrils.

"It doesn't look good. The nose and tongue are already getting dark," Roy noted. He continued pulling. The head was out and he began pulling downward. The shoulders slipped through and with a final pull, the calf fell heavily to the ground. "Sad, it looks like a nice heifer."

"Heifer?" Paul asked.

"A girl," June replied. "I don't see it breathing, but I'm not ready to give up yet." She picked up a piece of grass straw from a nearby clump and stuck it up the calf's nose. There was no response. She stuck the straw in again, further this time. The dark red nose wrinkled up and moments later responded with a mild sneeze and expelled fluid. Another sneeze, brought a great amount of fluid, and then it took a breath. June grinned happily, "We were in time, but I think not by too much."

As the newborn animal shook her head, throwing even more fluid out of its floppy ears, Roy turned to Paul and Scott. "Will you help me move her up to her mother's head? The cow needs to smell and see her struggling so she will identify it as hers. Until then I don't want to let mama loose. I don't want her to run away from us and forget her daughter. That's one problem we've run into before when we've had to help in a delivery."

Appreciating the complexity of the processes he had just seen, Paul grabbed hold of the slippery calf and helped Roy and Scott move it, and then turned to June. "You seemed to do that so easily."

"It's easy if you know what to do," June replied with a smile. "It's only a matter of learning to identify the different parts by feel, and then getting it into a normal position to be born. If you've been successful once, you never forget."

"June reads books and has practiced many times with the sheep," Roy offered in explanation.

"This was a common occurrence with the sheep, but not often with the cattle," she offered without hesitation.

"Why does it happen more often with sheep?" Scott questioned.

"One reason is sheep often have multiple births, but I also think it's because sheep have been more closely associated with man. It was normal for a flock of sheep to have a shepherd living with them. His job was to move his flock to new grazing, protect them from predators and provide birthing help whenever needed. I'll admit I used to stay pretty busy during lambing. Like now, when there's a problem we can't always wait for the veterinarian. Sometimes he can't get around for hours. I'm happy to say, things are much better, now."

"Why?" Scott asked.

"Some time ago we realized that easy delivery is a directly inherited trait. The sheep people have allowed that trait to weaken over many centuries of domestication. Most sheep producers concentrated, instead, on breeding for wool production and carcass quality. We're just beginning to realize, as year round shepherding becomes more expensive, that we must not keep breeding animals from those who need help. I've done that culling over the past few years and rarely have to deliver lambs any longer. I guess it could be called a return to nature's way. Though our efforts saved the life of this calf neither she nor any others from this cow will be saved for our herd or sold as a breeder."

"This calf would have died if you hadn't helped, wouldn't she?" Paul asked with a deep look of concern on his face.

June nodded. "I'm afraid so. We were almost too late already."

"What about the cow?"

June frowned deeply. "In the wild, she would have been playing by nature's rules. She would have delivered the calf or died trying."

Paul grimaced. "I guess that is how it works, isn't it?"

"Yes," June offered. "Of course we couldn't stand by and let them die, but in nature it's survival of the fittest. The result is the natural elimination of poor traits by eliminating the carriers. Even a very difficult birth leaves the young and the mother susceptible to hungry predators." As she explained, June moved toward the cow's head, taking a hypodermic needle from its sterile container. She attached it to a syringe and drew a calculated amount of antibiotic through the rubber stopper of one of the small glass bottles and handed both to Roy. "It doesn't happen very often in wild animals," she continued, automatically swabbing a place on the side of the animal's neck with alcohol from the second bottle. She exchanged the alcohol for the hypodermic syringe Roy held out to her. "Nature has always been a harsh taskmaster. In the wild there are no second chances."

Paul contemplated her explanation. "I guess I've never thought about your nature in quite that way."

June smiled. After giving the antibiotic injection, Roy started loosening the ropes. The new mother began acting totally unappreciative of the emergency medical assistance she had just received. Her interest had turned to cleaning her new offspring and protecting it from the invasive predators. She licked her calf then pawed at the ground with one foot. She gave the calf another lick and lowing softly to it, shook her head threateningly. The four helpers understood the message and left the mother the peace to complete the job nature intended; the reproduction of a life form that would ultimately feed others. June excused herself and left for home. A backward glance showed the calf beginning the struggle to get its long legs organized to stand and nurse. The remaining three returned to their projects.

%%%

"Go get the big tractor, Scott," Roy directed. "Bring it to the shed and we'll get the tedder hooked up." Scott took off at a run, returning shortly with the tractor and under Roy's direction, backed it up to the draw-bar of the tedder. Paul listened while Roy explained to Scott how the machine worked and it became clear to him that the revolving spider like sections picked the cut grass off the ground. Scott climbed back into the tractor seat and drove off toward the field of drying hay. "Be creative in your tedding pattern," Roy yelled, with increasing volume. "Just remember to work the fields in the order we cut them." Scott acknowledged his understanding with a nod of his head and a wave.

Roy and Paul then went to the shed to take care of the baler. First Paul helped Roy make some important adjustments on the crude, mechanical machine. When complete Roy showed him how to use a grease gun then gave him a diagram of the grease fittings needing attention. Using the diagram Paul started greasing the upper fittings while Roy worked on the lower ones. "Damn," Paul heard Roy remark from under the machine. "I need to cut an accumulation of hay off the gearbox. Would you hand me your pocket knife, Paul?"

"I'm sorry. I don't have a knife," Paul replied.

"What!" boomed the voice from a pair of flailing legs on the ground. "How can a man get through life without a pocket knife?"

"I'm sorry," Paul repeated.

"Would you get mine? It's lying on the tailgate of the pickup."

"Sure." Paul walked over to the pickup. Returning shortly, he placed the knife in a hand seeking from underneath the machine.

"Thanks," Roy replied gratefully. "Remind me when we get home to find you one." As Roy's hand disappeared again, Paul heard him muttering, "I still can't believe you don't own a pocket knife, but I'd be almost willing to bet you're going to need one around here."

Paul knew the mutterings did not require an answer. He would remind Roy later about the knife, though he really didn't feel any need for one.

Roy wiggled out from under the baler. "I think that does it. The old wreck is ready to have a go at another baling season. I'll relieve Scott on the tedder and you'll have the next three days off for your project. You don't know how much I've appreciated having you stay to help."

"You're more than welcome," Paul replied. "We have both learned a lot." They walked out into the field together to flag Scott down as he came around the field. Saying good-bye to Roy, Paul and Scott returned to the house and packed.

June watched them load their meager belongings into the back of the pickup and realized she was forming a strange attachment to this interesting pair. A thought crossed her mind and she walked outside after them. "Paul, why don't you back the pickup under the old camper that's sitting in the shed? It's an extra somebody gave us to use for parts. We haven't needed anything for our old one, so it's just taking space. Again, I don't promise fancy, but it is serviceable and will provide you with shelter wherever you are."

"Thank you," Paul replied graciously and soon the ancient camper was on the pickup. "Now we won't have to sleep on the ground."

"You've been sleeping outside?" she asked curiously.

"It's summer and much cheaper," Paul replied, confessing to a recurring fact of their lives. "Photo journalism doesn't always provide us with money to spend on motels. I will admit this body doesn't like the hard ground very much."

"Neither would mine," June quickly confirmed. She thought a moment longer as she watched them put their things inside. "If you'll wait a few minutes, I'll get you some things from the house." Not waiting for a reply, she disappeared soon returning with a box full of linens, blankets, pots, plates, silverware and other assorted kitchen items. She handed them to Paul. While Paul and Scott put things away she returned to the house and as they prepared to leave, placed another box inside the back door of the camper. She winked at them. "Just some staples to get you started, but you will need to stop for a block of ice for the icebox."

"But we can't take..."

"Hogwash. We promised you room and board and you agreed. No argument, now, understand."

Both smiled and thanked her, exchanged hugs then climbed into the cab. Waving good-bye, they heard her wish of 'good hunting'.

########################################

They traveled back across the ferry to continue the search. Endless questions got them several referrals to others who might have some information, but each lead ran to a dead end. The evening of the third day they returned to the farm to resume their obligation to the Fosters. They walked into the house to normal family greetings. Mentally tired, it felt good being back. Paul was really looking forward to some manual labor and new things to learn.

While Scott made a hasty phone call over to the Doran's to talk to Amy, Roy brought Paul up to date on their progress. "As soon as the dew is off the grass tomorrow morning, we'll rake the first two fields we cut. Weather permitting they should be ready to bale about mid afternoon."

In the early morning the grass was still wet. At breakfast Roy and June invited them to go riding. With Sandy off to camp for a week, and an extra horse available, Scott received a 'yes' when he asked if Amy could go along.

Before going over to the corral for the horses, Paul motioned Scott back to their bedroom. "I notice you've been spending most of your free time with Amy, Scott. You know you have to be honest with her and tell her we will be leaving soon."

Scott looked sadly back at his father. "I already have, Dad. I also told her it might be a quick departure. I didn't want to do to her what I did to Kelly. I think she understands."

"What did you give for a reason?"

"I told her a job might come up for you. I know, it's a fib, but I couldn't tell her about Fox." Scott started to smile. "She said it didn't matter."

"I'm proud you considered her feelings. I should have trusted you."

"It's all right, Dad. I think I've learned a lot from you."

"As I have from, and about you, Scott," Paul returned.

They heard June calling. Paul put his hand on his son's shoulder and motioned to the door. "After you, I'm next."

Scott grimaced. "Where'd you hear that?"

"In the poolroom from Roy - I found it one of his easier to understand sayings."

"He does say odd things a lot doesn't he?"

Paul frowned questioningly. "You mean they also sound strange to you?"

"I think they must be from another generation." They both laughed.

%%%

As they galloped down a long straight stretch of trail, Paul thought about the gift Roy had given when he granted them permission to ride the horses at any time. It is a gift we have already enjoyed for many hours. I have ridden all the horses at least once and know any will give me whatever I ask, freely and without hesitation. Still, if asked to choose, I find I like Duke the best. It amazes me how much I enjoy riding. Control of the raw power of an animal beneath me requires coordination and cooperation instead of command; a taking and giving by each. It is a total contrast to the power I commanded in the ships in which I, and my kind, roamed the stars.

The ride consumed almost two hours and it was late morning when they returned the horses to the corral. The morning dew was off the grass and Roy introduced them to the use of another farm machine. Raking was a slow process. It put the dry grass into a long continuous single row round and round the field. It left it ready to be picked up by the baler. Paul and Scott began the raking and two hours later Roy came into the field to bale.

While the baling was in progress, Kathy, June, Amy and Sandy walked out into the field, gathered several bales together and began setting them up on end in neat pyramid shaped stacks. When finished with the raking, Paul and Scott joined the girls. "Kathy said the weather forecast she heard was for rain by tomorrow," June advised. She gave a quick lesson on how to balance the bales on end with the machine tied knots downward. They explained the method took advantage of density and direction of the grass in the bale and to shed any rain that might fall. Twenty tons of hay went through the baler before the day's work ended. Putting the crop in the barn for storage would have to wait on the weather and more help.

Morning brought cloudy skies. Roy was moody and it bothered Paul. He put his hand on Roy's arm, as he got ready to help grease the baler for another day's work. I can sense Roy is worrying it might rain, Paul thought. I hope it doesn't. He glanced at the sky and saw light places in the overcast before returning his attention to the task at hand.

When a few drops of rain fell, Scott and Amy took a lunch and went riding. One thing could be depended on; they would not return for some time.

By some wild chance of the weather in the Pacific Northwest, the rain didn't happen. Soon the sun came out and the temperature rose. By early afternoon it warmed. Roy and Paul started raking another field after lunch. Two hours later Scott returned and took over the second rake and Roy resumed baling again. Even with a late start, almost ten tons of hay pounded through the baler and was stood on end before sundown.

The following morning turned off cloudy again. Everybody could see Roy's dark mood return as clouds continued to gather. Trying to raise his spirits, Paul asked if he wanted to go riding, but Roy declined. Paul, Scott and Amy went and got a generous soaking. Roy announced as they returned, "It will require two days of warm, dry weather before the hay will be ready to bale again. June and I can handle what needs to be done. You're free to continue your search."

Paul and Scott departed after lunch. So far, the money earned on the farm paid expenses and they still had most of the money they had received from Dale Taylor. Financially they were in better shape than normal. Paul realized having the pickup and camper to be a blessing. They could stop anywhere and had secure sleeping and cooking facilities available. It also provided them the convenience of having all their things while on the road. They searched further north this time, but seemed no closer to the elusive Kelly Simpson than when they left Seattle. Finishing dinner in the camper, Scott looked across the table at his father. He gave a deep sigh and in a very distressed voice, said simply. "Dad, let's go home."

They cleaned and put away the dishes and turned the pickup back toward the farm. Paul glanced at his son and saw a look of anticipation. We're beginning to think of the Foster's as home now, as we did the Taylors. It feels good to think of having a home, but presently I know it cannot be. It's hard to believe we've been around the farm for over two weeks. The peace we've had has almost let me forget Fox again. I wonder how he manages to find us? A few times a police request for information brought him, but there are times I can't figure how the man just seems to appear. There is one thing I know for certain, ... I don't want to be in a position to ask him. He turned to Scott. "I think it's time we discuss a plan of action if Fox should show up."

They agreed to use the pickup and camper to escape if possible, and leave it parked in a secure place then call the family to come for it. On the island, escape using the pickup would not be possible and hiding somewhere seemed best. Riding horseback they had a good knowledge of the area and knew of many places where it would require an extensive search to find them. With Fox apparently trying to retain secrecy, they agreed it was unlikely he would seek the manpower required to search the heavy forests. It would be relatively easy to stay out of sight until he gave up, and then life would return to the normal walking, thumbing rides and changing directions. Arriving late Friday night, Paul backed the camper into the shed. Finding the house dark they decided not to disturb anybody and slept in the camper.

In the morning, as soon as activity began in the house, they walked in to breakfast in the making and the normal morning greetings. Paul offered what he felt a reasonable suggestion. "Roy, June, perhaps it would be easier if we continued to use the camper as our bedroom while we're here. We wouldn't have to keep moving our stuff or disturb you if we come back late. The camper is really very comfortable for the two of us and you would have the room available."

June seemed disappointed, but could not argue the logic of the suggestion. "That's okay, Paul, but there is one thing I must insist on," she said in almost a demanding tone.

Paul looked distressed as he turned to face her directly. He did not expect any restriction on their freedom in exchange for the camper. "What is that?" he asked guardedly.

Though she tried, June couldn't hold her forceful look. A broad smile just budded then came to full bloom when she saw Paul was taking her gruffness seriously. She looked at him out of the corner of her eye as she turned to flip a hotcake, and winked at him. "The camper can be your bedroom, but while you're helping us on this farm, you will eat with us." Her grin broadened, June put her arms around Scott and gave him a warm hug. "I miss you when you take off."

"We miss you too," Scott added with a grin. When she let go, she could see a responsive glow of appreciation for the remark.

Paul smiled back at her. "That will be fine," he confirmed as she ran her arms around him, likewise pulling him close. He could feel the intense human warmth in the gesture and reciprocated. Such a compromise, he thought. "We get to enjoy the best of everything, June. Your cooking is definitely superior to ours." Nights in the camper will give Scott and me the ability to talk freely. I have noticed I can hear through the walls in the house and have worried about being overheard. I don't believe anyone would eavesdrop on purpose, but like Rick Gonzalez, it is difficult to turn off one's sound perception. Overheard conversations can bring questions requiring we leave and our job is not finished.

Kathy walked in and asked to borrow a stapler as June began putting breakfast on the table. June went to find one and Kathy took over getting the food on the table. She poured herself a social cup of coffee and commandeered an empty chair across from Roy. "Well, Paul, how about filling me in on your search." The answer was always the same.

As June returned, Roy was bringing Paul up to date. "We baled the balance of the hay and stood it on end while you've been on the road. We'll be starting to haul tomorrow. The word is the weather is expected to remain good for the next couple of days. I have the necessary manpower arranged."

"Why wait until tomorrow?" Paul asked. "We could get started today."

"This is the Fourth," Roy advised, bluntly. "We can't work on the Fourth."

Paul looked at Roy, puzzling. "Fourth what?"

"The Fourth of July," Roy returned. "Have you lost track of time?"

"Fourth of July?" Paul questioned hesitantly.

Kathy smiled at the response. "Don't tell me you don't celebrate the Fourth where you come from?"

"Oh yes ... the Fourth," Paul acknowledged, as he glanced from one to the other trying his best to cover for another breach of general knowledge. He looked at Scott, hoping he might casually say something explaining the significance of the date before saying anything further.

Scott looked back at his father. Poor Dad, he thought. I know he has read about the Revolution in my history book. He even gave me a quiz on it. But he has no way of knowing what the Fourth of July now represents in the United States. History books don't mention national holidays of celebration. I've been planning for it all week. I spent all my money for some fireworks, but I sure didn't want to tell him about it. I figured he'd need a long explanation of why people set off explosives to celebrate independence and probably lecture me about wasting money. I can't start explaining now. I'll tell him next time we're alone. He rolled his eyes slightly hoping his father would understand and drop the subject.

Paul understood his son's hint, and gracefully moved in another direction. "Then what are you planning for this beautiful day? Shall we go riding?"

"Not this morning," Kathy returned. "The last few days Amy and Sandy have been working Red with the old wagon. They have him all cleaned up, the harness polished and have the wagon decorated really cute this year." She smiled, noting the look Paul so often used when he didn't understand something. It so delighted her for it seemed so innocent and childlike. There is no phoniness about this man. His questions and curiosity seem so natural for him. "They enter a float in the parade every year," she offered. "It's become a family tradition."

Paul glanced at Scott again and caught another subtle hint not to ask the question he knew was now forming. Instead he offered, "Oh, that's nice."

June frowned slightly as she caught the subtle, wordless interplay between them. Shrugging one shoulder ever so slightly, she continued, "The Fourth is a big day around here and it's going to be a full one. We're having a family picnic here at the house, and then we'll all go down to watch the parade. The rest of the afternoon we'll take in the carny and the festivities. It's a time to visit friends we haven't seen since last year."

"Parade, ... carny?" Paul questioned.

Still smiling at Paul's constant expressions and questions, Kathy explained. "I guess we just expect everyone knows about the celebration here in town. It seems so normal having you around; I think we all forget you and Scott have only been here a few weeks and much of that time you've been away. The paper published the schedule of events last week. There's always a big celebration for the Fourth. We have a community parade and a carnival is set up at the beach. There will be a big fireworks display tonight at the fairgrounds."

Paul caught another of Scott's cease and desist looks over his questions and purposely said nothing more. He knew Scott would explain.

Kathy thought for a minute. "Hey, everybody, why don't you ride with the girls? I'm going to take some pictures and it would be nice if they contain our new family members."

June looked at Roy for approval. "I know there's some old fashion clothing up in the attic."

"I'm game if the rest of you are," Roy challenged.

"No," Paul said with concern, as he thought of the possibility of some old friend they may not wish to see. "We don't want to do this, do we, Scott?"

Scott, full of boyish enthusiasm continued the challenge. "Come on, Dad. It'll be fun. I've never been in a parade before."

"I don't think so," Paul returned. "Why don't you go, Kathy? Let me take the pictures."

"I can be in it any year," she offered. "I would like to get pictures of you and Scott in our parade.

"Don't look so worried, Paul," Roy kidded. "No one of any importance will be looking for you. It's just a local thing. Television has too many big parades to cover."

While Paul continued to shake his head, no, Scott offered additional incentive. "Dad, where's your sense of adventure. You said you like to learn new things."

Scott really wants to do this parade thing, Paul thought as he watched Scott vigorously nodding a commitment. "Okay, but only if Kathy will give us some of her pictures."

"Sure," she offered. "Cal is the parade chair person this year and the parade starts promptly at two. Be downtown at least a half hour early so he can get everybody lined up." Kathy drank down the last swallow of coffee and headed for the door. "I'll go tell the girls they've got company. They'll be thrilled."

%%%

When breakfast was over, Paul motioned for Scott to follow him to the camper. Once safely inside he asked, "Scott, please explain why we are doing this?"

Solemnly, Scott reminded his father about his history book and the chapter on the nation's struggle for independence. He explained the national holiday established to celebrate the signing day and about the traditions emerging over more than two centuries of the nation's existence, picnics, parades, speeches and fireworks. Scott saw an enlightened look appear on his father's face.

"Okay. That is what these minor explosions I've been hearing the past couple of days are all about ... anticipation?"

"Yeah, some people can't wait," Scott confessed with a grin.

"Have you given any consideration to Fox?" Paul asked with concern.

"Dad, you heard what Roy said. It's just a local thing."

Paul's continuing contemplative look finally brought "It's interesting to me that your kind celebrate a war with what seems like another."

"I knew you were going to say something like that," Scott acknowledged, his eyes dancing. "Just wait until later. Tonight is when the celebration really gets going. It's really fun, Dad. A couple days ago, I bought some fireworks for us to set off. I wanted to surprise you."

Paul looked critically at his son. "You spent money on explosives?"

Scott grimaced, "I also knew you were going to say that Dad. As we learned before; don't make judgments until you have all the facts. Right now, go with the flow and let's talk again, tonight."

%%%

The family got together at the house for the traditional Fourth of July picnic fare; hot dogs, potato salad, Boston Baked Beans and apple pie alamode. As he finished a second piece of pie, Paul thought again of the Dutch apple pie and whipped cream he had shared so long ago with Jenny. He pictured her face in his mind and wondered if they would ever find her. So far the search for Johnson and Kelly Simpson has continued to be disappointing, though we still have many areas to the north to visit yet. If we find them, will either know where Jenny is? The lady at Spirit Lake Lodge didn't even recognize her name. If they all went separate ways, will anybody know where she is?

"Come on, Dad, it's time to go." Scott urged as he danced nimbly up the driveway. "Let's go watch Amy and Sandy get ready. We don't want to be late for our first parade."

The girls were doing the finishing touches on an extremely old, single horse drawn buckboard wagon. They had brown crepe paper woven into the wooden spokes of the yellow wagon wheels and the old iron wagon tires shined with a new coat of paint. The leaf-spring wooden seat showed the results of a new coat of brown paint as did the wagon's cargo box. Streamers of yellow crepe paper hung along the sides. Inside the wagon they had loose hay and some produce from both June and Kathy's gardens. Banners, stating the celebration's chosen theme for the year, hung on both sides: AMERICA, A LAND OF PLENTY, and underneath, Foster Farms. Amy and Sandy harnessed and hitched Red between the yellow wooden shafts and tied him at the hitching rail, and then went into the house to change. When they returned they looked as though they had stepped out of any early episode of 'Little House on the Prairie', dressed in gingham dresses and matching cloth bonnets Kathy had sewn. Roy and June walked over, dressed in old bib overalls, red plaid shirts and straw hats and brought similar old clothes for Paul and Scott.

Paul and Scott changed and everybody got into the wagon. Scott sat on the front seat with Amy. Amy slapped the reins on Red's rump and moved out the driveway toward the meeting area. They waited at the parade staging area until Cal gave the word to join in the procession. As they edged their entry out into the street Paul saw Roy and June waving to spectators, and did likewise. As several waved back he recognized people from the picnic and others who had visited the Foster home the past weeks. Scott, likewise, recognized many teenagers he had met with Amy. Many cameras lined the corridor. Paul relaxed when he realized they were people taking pictures of children and friends in and along the parade route, though many cameras took the girl's entry as well. The parade covered only a half-mile and soon they were home putting everything away. It had been a new and interesting experience, after all.

Everyone decided to go back downtown to take in the carnival and booths set up at the beach park. Amy and Scott went off to join some other teenagers and soon Sandy spotted a group of her friends and happily abandoned the adults. Paul saw Scott a number of times as the family wandered the many food and game booths. Soon he saw Scott and Amy running toward them, beaming with excitement.

"Hey everyone," a grinning Scott announced, "we won the top prize in the parade." He waved a large purple ribbon for all to see, "We got forty bucks, and this big ribbon."

"And they'll have our picture in the paper next week," Amy added with pride.

Paul looked at Scott questioningly. A picture in a newspaper was not exactly what he wished for them.

Scott saw the look on his father's face and walked over confidently. "Smile, Dad, and don't look so worried," he whispered in his ear. "Fox would never recognize us in the clothes we were wearing." Scott's face beamed with renewed excitement. "Hey, while the folks go with Amy to pick up the prize money, come with me." He took his father's hand and pulled Paul over to the carnival midway. "Do you have your druthers?"

His father looked puzzled. "Druthers?"

"I'm sorry." Scott laughed his enthusiasm undaunted. "I forgot. You've probably never seen a carnival before."

Paul thought as he looked at the gaudy lights and concession stands about their first escape together from the Seattle Center, the monorail ride and Liz Baynes offer of assistance. Suddenly aware Scott was pulling him along, he looked around. He felt a strange feeling of apprehension at the carnival rides. "I don't think I want to..."

"Come on," Scott pleaded. "It's part of the celebration and I want to spend some time with you. You can pick whatever one you want. I'll even go on the merry-go-round, but I hope you pick something a little more exciting."

Having a definite apprehensive feeling, Paul grudgingly followed, pulled along about a half a step behind his son. He pointed to a ride that seemed to be sitting still much of the time. "How about this one?"

Scott turned back and agreed enthusiastically. "Good choice! The Octopus is one of the greatest. I bought a book of tickets with Amy so let's get in line." A few minutes later Scott handed two tickets to the gate man and led his father to one of two cars loading. They climbed in and the attendant secured the safety bar across their laps. An additional car loaded and the ride started.

Paul's eyes got wider and wider as with increasing speed the centrifugal force threw them to the outside. Suddenly the seat dropped out from under him and he gulped hard. As suddenly as it had fallen it raced upward again. Scott threw himself from side to side and the car began spinning wildly. The ride continued round and round, up and down, side to side.

"Isn't this great, Dad?" Scott yelled in ecstasy as he turned to look at his father. Instead of the look of growing excitement he expected, he saw his father grimly gripping the safety bar.

"Scott," Paul finally offered nervously, "my stomach is full of bluebirds."

"Oh no, Dad, you're not..." Scott stopped, unable to say the terrible words.

"I'm not what?"

"You're not getting sick?"

"I feel too hot and have a funny feeling in my stomach ... like I'm about to un-swallow my lunch."

"You're getting sick all right!" Scott confirmed grimly. "You mean with all the traveling you've done you're going to get sick on a carnival ride? Can you hold it?"

"I don't think so unless this thing stops soon," Paul confirmed.

"Then use your sphere. No one will notice!"

"I don't think I can concentrate."

Scott began waving his arms frantically at the ride operator as they sped by his post, but the older man at the controls didn't seem to notice. The ride made another circle and began a second, and then after what seemed like an eternity, slowed and stopped at their car.

The operator ran over, removed the bar and helped Paul out, offering him a large open brown paper bag. With two sets of arms to lean on, Paul weaved down the off ramp. The man urged him around behind the ride away from everybody. With the bag still in his hand, Paul grabbed a fence to steady himself. "Are you all right, mister?" the man asked, slowly shaking his head.

"I'm not sure," Paul replied grimly. "Thank you for helping me."

Continuing to assist Paul in remaining upright, the man said, "If you want some advice, mister, us older guys really should leave this kind of ride to the kids". The man glanced upward as he heard whooping and hollering from his now stalled ride, "I've got to get back to my job or they'll start tearing my equipment apart. You sure you're all right, mister?"

The world around me is settling some, Paul thought, but I need firm control of this problem. "Yes," he replied half-heartedly as he eagerly motioned the ride operator to leave.

Retreating, the man muttered under his breath. "There's always at least one a day trying to show the kids they can still take it. I'm lucky this one cried uncle before it was too late or I'd be shutting down my ride to clean up."

Paul, still pale and sweating profusely, continued to hold onto the fence and swallowed often. "Scott," he pleaded, "can you see some place close by where we can be alone?"

Scott looked around and saw the carnival equipment trucks parked behind another ride. Offering his shoulder to lean on, he said, "We can go between the trucks." As they moved along he saw his father reaching for his sphere. When Scott determined they were out of sight between two large trucks, he stopped. "I don't think anyone can see us now." A pale blue light flickered weakly from the sphere then grew in intensity and briefly surrounded his father. Scott saw him take a deep breath then let it go. Relief had come. It amazes me, he thought, how fast Dad can do that.

"That was a close one," Paul confirmed. "Do you have any idea of what happened?"

"I think you got motion sickness."

"Motion sickness?"

"I don't understand what it really is, Dad," Scott offered consolingly. "Kent used to get it when he went out on a boat. I guess lots of people do, sometimes from just riding in a car. What I can't understand is why you should."

"Probably because under the same conditions so would Paul Forrester."

"But he did all sorts of things while he was taking photos. We know he also flew a lot."

Paul looked critically at his son. "Yes, but I would be willing to wager a bet that he might have felt the same way I just did if someone had coerced him into riding on that thing." Paul motioned toward the offensive ride. "Never again!"

Scott thought for a moment then his face contorted. "I still don't understand. If you can travel across the galaxies; get shot down, fall to earth and survive the crash without any problems, why should you get sick on a carnival ride?"

"Because I'm not the same any longer. It wasn't me that got sick ... it was him. We don't get sick. Everybody on the ship adapted long ago to the weightlessness of space and the ship's movements. It was our home ... our work. My ability to adapt to various conditions made me acceptable for space duty. It was also the reason I was chosen for the first attempt at contact with Earth. If I hadn't been adaptable, I would have remained at home as others must."

"I'm sorry," Scott said with increasing guilt. "I shouldn't have made you go."

Paul regained his perspective when he saw the guilty look on Scott's face and sought to reassure him. "No, Scott, I'm sorry," he said softly. "I shouldn't have blamed you. You didn't exactly force me and you had no way of knowing what would happen. I should have remembered, like with the cold virus, this body is new and might not be as well adapted as Paul Forrester's. I should have listened to the body because it was telling me, no. I probably could have suppressed it if I had known what was going to happen. I think these things are all a part of learning what it's like being human."

Scott looked at a smile growing on his father's face and figured some advice might be in order. "Dad, there's one suggestion I'd like to make." He saw his father eagerly awaiting his comment. "The first time we came across the ferry you said you thought you'd like to travel on Earth's oceans. I think you'd better take us on a short, rough voyage before you sign us up for a long one. I'd also suggest we get some medicine to take along because the same thing could happen again. I remember how sick Kent got the one time he agreed to take me out in a fishing boat." Scott grimaced. "When I wanted to go on a carnival ride Kent volunteered to hold my cotton candy and let Eileen take me on the rides."

Paul continued to smile at the deep look of concern on Scott's face and for his fatherly advice. "Scott, I'll check into the problem further and figure out a way to prevent it."

Scott returned his father's smile and watched him carefully folding the paper sack the ride attendant had provided. They turned their heads simultaneously when they heard voices and saw the Fosters and Dorans coming around the end of the truck.

"Paul, are you all right?" June asked with a look of genuine concern. "The ride attendant noticed we were looking for someone and told us he brought you back here."

"Dad just got a little sick on the ride," Scott advised. "He's all right now."

"Are you sure?" June returned, looking soulfully at him.

"I'm all right, really," Paul confirmed. "Things settled down just as soon as the earth stopped whirling around me."

"Why don't you come sit with us a while, just in case?" she suggested.

Paul looked at Scott, and then at the family. "I think that's a good idea."

Scott looked again at his father's smile and knew he was all right. "Gee Dad, I'm really sorry."

Paul put his hand on Scott's shoulder. "I'll bet Amy is anxious to go on that thing with you." He reached for his billfold, pulled out ten dollars and handed it to Scott. "Here, I'll even give you the money to buy more tickets. Now go, Mr. Younger Generation."

Unobserved by anyone, a bearded face appeared at the truck window high above their heads. He watched two, in particular, as they walked back toward the midway. "That was sure an odd conversation," he mumbled, "and what was that weird light? All they needed to say was their flying saucer was coming for them and I'd have been out of here. I can't wait to tell the guys."

%%%

I haven't seen much of Scott or Amy for the past couple of hours, Paul thought as the day progressed. Maybe they're still at the carnival enjoying my ten dollars and Amy's half of the prize money from the parade. There is an increase in the noise level and I am assuming Scott to be among the perpetrators. The rest of the family just had a hamburger and they're ready to go home. I guess I'll just go with them. Scott told me he'd be home for the fireworks tonight.

They all walked home together and while Roy and June went into the house, Paul stopped at the camper to stash the paper sack he still carried. He strolled over to the sheep pasture fence to look at some ducks that had come to the pond while they were gone. He counted thirty-two baby ducklings with them. There was a lot of calling and milling around and he winced when he saw one duckling receive a severe peck on the head from one of the unrelated adult birds. It scurried off, peeping loudly. His attention turned toward some other ducks, who seeing the possibility of a handout, began waddling over toward him. Having nothing to offer, he said, "I'm sorry." His attention then moved from the ducks to a large group of lambs out in the field that seemed to explode into activity. Some jumped straight upward while others raced off. The jumpers, returning to earth, then raced off in hot pursuit of their playmates. With the vigor of the young they charged wildly around the pasture. Paul smiled. They are totally unaware and unconcerned about the significance of this human day of celebration. To most young creatures of earth, every day seems a celebration.

To the dismay of the ducks, the lambs made a sharp turn that brought them over toward the fence. The massive invasion of privacy created, sent the older birds flying toward the water loudly voicing their protest at being deterred from a possible meal.

The lambs made another turn and were springing, stiff legged, around the pond. The racing stopped as quickly as it began when they reached the man made dam creating the impoundment. One young male planted himself firmly at a high spot. He butted heads with another and held the spot until another, proving more determined, took possession. Recognizing one larger young male had finally emerged victorious, Starman grinned. It appears animals also have matters that need resolving with force, he mused. It seems the more powerful becomes the victor.

June had been watching Paul through the kitchen window. She smiled at his deep involvement in what he was watching and decided to join him. Silently she walked over toward where he stood next to the fence. "They're playing 'King of the Mountain'," she offered from behind.

Unaware of her approach and so engrossed in his observation, Paul jumped nervously. Quickly regaining his composure, he turned toward her. "It's the pecking order you mentioned, isn't it?"

"Yes," she replied with a smile, "I'm surprised you remember. It's easy to recognize if you take the time to look. In most domestic animals it is still as natural as in the wild and it starts very young. In their play they establish an order that is necessary to all animal populations, particularly to those who live in larger groups. When two at the top remain almost even in dominance, it can get violent as they mature. Still, they finally manage to settle whose boss. As in nature, if all are left to mature together, only a couple of the most dominant males will father the next generation."

June watched Paul return his attention to the ducks and wondered if he might offer anything further. Smiling broadly she asked, "A penny for your thoughts, Paul?"

Familiar already with the expression from having questioned it on another occasion, he returned her smile. "Oh, I was thinking about your nature and how wonderful and diverse it is."

"'Our' nature?" she asked, this time questioning what she considered another of his unusual choice of words.

"I meant nature in general," Paul returned, softly, attempting to cover for his slip.

"If one takes the time to watch closely, it is very interesting," she confirmed. "A long time ago I read that in a flock or herd of wild animals one female will never willingly nurse the young of another. There are exceptions, but they are very, very rare. By careful observation, I've verified it in both the sheep and the cows. Did you notice it while you were watching the ducks that only the males come over to beg? Your appearance caused the two females that had just hatched their second clutch of ducklings, to gather their families together for protection."

Paul looked again and saw the ducklings had divided and were huddling close to their respective mothers. "A minute ago I saw a duck peck at a little one. Did she do that because it wasn't hers?"

"Yes, she rejected it," June confirmed. "I'll bet the other duck called it right away."

"I guess I really wasn't paying attention. I will watch closer next time."

"If you do, you'll notice the same thing in all our animals. They will not mother the offspring of even their mother or sister. At the time of birth, or hatching, the mother identifies only with her own and refuses all others."

"What happens if the mother dies?" Paul asked.

"If it isn't old enough to survive on its own, it will starve if it isn't in the care of people."

Paul hesitated momentarily. "Such a system seems cruel."

"Only at first glance," she returned with confidence. "I see it as an overall attempt at maintaining order. If a ewe loses her offspring, she'll check all the others many times, and then grieve, accept her loss and carry on. There is always next year. Imagine the chaos if she tried to steal from another ewe. If one offspring was lost, the rest of the season for rearing the young would be spent in conflict trying to steal from one another to fulfill an individual need. In nature the survival of the entire species is the primary objective. The individual is expendable. Those unsuccessful become food for other species." Remembering another observation, she grinned broadly. "I will admit it is interesting watching a bummer at work."

"A bummer?" Paul questioned.

June grinned for she felt sure he would question 'bummer' before mentioning it. "That's what we call an orphan lamb that manages to survive on its own. It is truly a bum. If a lamb loses its mother, it will try to remain with the rest of the lambs. When they get hungry they head for mom and the orphan runs along. When hungry a lamb acts instinctively and darts under for a meal. I guess the bummer survives if it can steal a sip or two before the ewe realizes she has a stranger at the table. Still a sip is all it will ever get for every ewe checks her lambs immediately and the intruder is kicked off. If successful, it finds another hungry friend. If it manages to fool enough ewes, enough times, it will survive. It seems a technique inherent with domestic sheep for I haven't seen it in the cattle. Still the ewe is determined to provide only for her own and never willingly accepts the stranger."

"That's interesting," Paul replied, as their fun and game time over, the lambs wander off again to nibble on grass. "I like watching the animals."

She grinned. "I never tire of watching them. So do many others. When the calves and lambs are being born, there is a regular parade of people at the fences watching and asking questions. One thing I find hard to accept, like when you and Scott first came here, is people want to believe we keep all of them. Unlike your eagerness to learn and an ability to accept the necessity of life and death; most people can't. They try to judge nature by human standards. While many will argue they see human characteristics in animals ... perhaps it is more realistic to say they are seeing animal characteristics in themselves."

"I now have something else to study," Paul offered.

"I have always been a realist and it disturbs visitors when I tell them these animals will not live to old age. Most people don't want to think about the source of the milk, eggs and meat they use as food. I explain they are the same as in all of nature; one thing feeding upon another, but find most have no realistic concept of the life and death struggles going on constantly for nature to maintain balance. The basic rule is, if all the young of any species, be it insect or elephant, live to breeding maturity, we would soon be up to our armpits in them. Nature provides in abundance for all to survive."

"To be truthful, until we came here I never thought about any of these things," Paul replied. "There are still many things I do not understand, but I do want to learn about nature, life and living here on Earth. I find studying animals almost as interesting as studying people."

June grinned again at another of his strange choice of words. "I really appreciate your totally open attitude Paul. I will say most people would be hard pressed to feed themselves even though nature has the table set for them. Most are part of a specialized society, always relying on others to do anything they find personally distasteful. I have often wondered, and almost fear what would happen if they got to the store and found empty shelves. It is becoming common in some countries. I don't think anyone needs to explain famine. In such a time I think we would quickly see the very worst side of human nature develop."

Paul looked at her, mulling over another unfamiliar word. I'd like to ask her to define famine, but better not, he thought. She said no one needs to have it explained. As I did a moment ago, I will surely receive another of her patient smiles. I guess I'll have to ask Scott. No, I have to go to the library. I meant to do that anyway, but Roy has kept me too busy. "I can't imagine anything else," he offered, attempting to sound worldly.

A car rolled down the driveway just as Roy came out of the house to join them. Recognizing the visitor, he walked out to greet him. "Hi Charlie. Did you come to finish that pool game we started at the picnic?"

"Don't you people ever stay home?" Charlie asked, impatiently. "I've been down here a half dozen times. There's never anyone around."

"We're usually around the farm somewhere," Roy returned. "Did you ever check up at the barn? You must have noticed we're haying." He grinned impishly. "I really appreciate you coming over and volunteering to help."

"I didn't come here to volunteer, or play pool," Charlie announced. "I came to ask you to come to our next meeting. I didn't think you'd mind telling everyone what you told me about donating your place for a park."

"I have no intention of doing anything of the sort," Roy returned adamantly. "And, as a matter of fact, I do mind. I only mentioned it to you because I was trying to make a point. Besides, if you will recall, that isn't exactly what I told you. I said, if 'conditions are right'. A key word you seem to have forgotten is 'if'. I will not promise anything to anybody."

Charlie looked embarrassed. "I'm sorry. I remember you did say not to say anything. I will keep your confidence."

"Thank you," Roy replied. "It's too bad you had to make so many trips to say I'm sorry,"

"It's all right; the trip isn't a waste anyway. I also wanted to get back over here to continue the discussion we started after the picnic. I've thought a great deal about it lately."

June walked over. "Hi, Charlie," she offered with a smile. "You say you want to continue with our earlier discussion. As a matter of fact, Paul and I were just talking about animals, nature and farming. You're welcome to join us."

"Thank you, I don't mind if I do."

She motioned across the yard. "In that case, let's go sit at the picnic table." Taking a seat she looked across the table at him. "We were just discussing how most people seem unable to comprehend what it takes for their sustenance. I was just telling Paul that I worry about what people will do if there isn't enough food in the stores. With the constantly increasing numbers of people I think that may not be as far off as we would like it."

Charlie frowned. "Why? We're not lacking for food products in the United States."

"At the moment that's true," Roy offered. "In 1920 we moved from a society where less than half the population lived on the land. Today, well over ninety percent live in cities and are incapable of raising anything to feed themselves. Of necessity, they live in, or close to cities where they can find work. They have no basic concept that the food they eat comes from anywhere other than a market. They are a majority and therefore rule the country."

June frowned. "Cities and suburbs have become massive consumption machines and while their inhabitants speak out vocally about saving the environment, they feel no responsibility for damaging it. They don't think about the fact that everything they need comes to them, ready to use, from a vague somewhere they vocalize about saving." She gave a broad sweep of her arm toward the field of grazing cattle. "They sit, well fed and comfortable in a wooden house or steel reinforced concrete apartment and speak out against logging, mining and hydroelectric dams on the rivers while everything in their home runs on electricity and the materials that went into the construction of that home or apartment used to be a natural resource.

"The truth is a miner doesn't mine, a logger log and additional power sources don't need to be built, if there aren't consumers demanding materials and services. They holler about someone's chemical waste degrading the environment and causing extermination of wildlife, while the squares of ground they occupy used to be wildlife habitat and their pollutants disappear down the toilet or sink and other waste is hauled away to landfills to foul someone else's groundwater. There is a lot of talk, but no one ever looks in the mirror. In the future we will continue using up resources at a staggering rate just to keep up with this dependant population's growing demands."

"I guess I've never thought much about it," Charlie replied.

"Most people don't because most working people belong to an economy based only on money. That is an economy that exists separate from the land and it feeds upon itself. An urban or suburban working person puts in an eight-hour day, gets paid by the week and with money alone buys what is considered necessary to live. If the job pays well, it provides something to spend on recreation and entertainment also. What will happen if these people go to the store someday and the money doesn't even buy groceries, or worse, if there are no groceries to buy? Not many in our 'me' oriented society will find much pride in being hungry. As their numbers grow, none will consider the consequences of their actions. They will ravage the countryside, so to speak, 'To the last buffalo'. Hunger doesn't think for a moment about leaving seed stock for another crop."

"For us a food shortage is highly unlikely," Charlie replied with conviction. "We have a good farm economy and some of the most productive farmlands in the world."

"Up until now, that might be so," Roy offered. "Since the discovery of effective pesticides like DDT in the late 40's, agriculture more than kept up with our rising demand for food products by cultivating more land, raising more productive food and forage crops and developing more efficient livestock. With pride, we called it the Green Revolution. We have been so successful, we produced large surpluses. That together with advances in medicine and antibiotics has created a worldwide population explosion. Take the time to listen and you'll hear of recurring famines in other parts of the world so overall, we're not really in such good condition. With more and more people to feed, many are unable to raise enough food already. Much of our present overproduction is going overseas to provide relief.

"Farm products have become one of our major balance of trade exports," Roy continued, "Now with environmental concerns those excesses are going to end. Movements are underway to curtail cultivation of marginal lands to stop soil erosion and water pollution and many are demanding more public lands be locked away for wildlife."

"That's only right," Charlie returned. "Wild creatures must be provided with a place to live."

"I agree," Roy offered, "but by productively using those lands over a period of years retail prices for farm products have only gone up by three hundred percent, while over the same period the prices for other consumer goods have gone up six to eight hundred percent, with some even more. How much can we afford to convert to wildlife habitat, in perpetuity, before endangering our future food supply needs and leaving stomachs empty? Besides, most of such lands are locked into wilderness and cannot be visited by the normal tourist, the elderly, the handicapped or anyone who cannot carry a heavy backpack for long distances. It is public land, but only a very, very small number of the general public will ever get a chance to enjoy it.

"Right now, under pressure from those special interest groups, government is leaning heavily toward such environmental protection and all will be well while it is only farmers, ranchers, and the owners of large parcels of land paying the price of this preservation. But I wonder what will happen when the same government is called upon to weigh the value of keeping open space for wildlife habitat and the recreation of a few, while generations of people are left homeless and hungry? I'm afraid there is only one decision possible; wildlife and recreation will be forfeited as people demands increase. Open space, quality of life and living in harmony with nature will become choices only the wealthy can afford."

"Don't forget, the government lands you want set aside will not provide habitat for all wildlife," June offered. "Many have been displaced from their habitat by expanding cities and existing food production. Those with limited habitats have and are disappearing entirely."

"We're conscious of how many species are disappearing," Charlie offered, pridefully. "Look at the California Condor. They're part of a highly successful survival program. At the rate chicks are hatching, we'll soon see them soaring in the California sky, again."

June frowned at Charlie's expression. "Tell me, where can you return a condor to the wild, Charlie? It has very special needs to survive and as a scavenger, must have a tremendous range. California Condor Country, where the conditions are right is the coastal mountains of Southern California, a rapidly expanding living area for people trying to run from the cities. Few places remain where a condor will not have to live with, or around an increasing number of people. They will have to compete with people for space. In addition they must compete for their food, while not becoming the food of other scavengers and predators that have easily accommodated to and multiplied with human companionship; coyotes, foxes, dogs, feral cats seagulls and crows.

"The condor must also contend with the fact that people consider it a health hazard to leave dead or dying animals lying around. In a survival situation, the condor couldn't adapt to our encroachment before and I don't see where much has changed except lip service to their preservation. It all looks good on television, but released into the wild to fend for themselves, they will only die. To survive, any species must have the ability to adapt to a changing world. Extinction isn't new. Like the dinosaurs, saber tooth tigers and mastodons, plants and animals have been coming and going long before we came on the scene."

Starman smiled. A vision and description of the great reptiles in Scott's science book flashed to mind. Momentarily, Starman's thoughts returned home. I wonder if we experienced parallel ages and decisions in our history? With an almost imperceptible twitch of his head, he returned from his distant journey to the continuing conversation.

"The people who work on the programs must have something in mind for releasing them," Charlie offered.

"Over the long haul," June returned, "I feel sure the programs will provide no permanent solution. I haven't heard of any plans to move people out of the California foothills and I feel there are very few willing to move out of their homes to see a condor fly. Do we hatch thousands of condors to keep in zoos? On one thing you may be right; when enough have been hatched we may see condors fly, for of necessity, a few at a time may have to be sacrificed to justify the cost of the program. Other than that approach, I think cages will be home to the condor. Personally, I'd rather see a good National Geographic special of one condor in flight than see a thousand sitting in zoos."

"There are bears and wolves in survival programs too," Roy offered, "but the people working out the programs want to keep them protected even when they come into direct competition with your recreation and food supplies. The potential danger to people and damage to domestic livestock was the reason the government saw fit to reduce the numbers of these predators in the first place."

"They're being reintroduced into our parks," Charlie offered defensively.

"A predator released into a park can't read boundary signs, Charlie. For a while they will have a good food supply because of overproduction of grazing animals in our parks. They will multiply. But as their numbers increase, they will have to increase their range. Soon they will spread out of the parks and begin preying on domestic livestock and possibly become a threat to people as well."

"There have been no confirmed attacks on people by wolves," Charlie offered decisively.

"I've read those statements too, but do you really believe that, Charlie?" Roy returned. "Those statements are based on experiments, but under very controlled conditions. The subjects lived among the animals for a long period of time when food was abundant. They worked at becoming accepted by the pack. While the wolves, through familiarity may not attack them, it would not give anyone else immunity. Look at the history of wolf/dog crosses. The owner claims their wolf/dog is a wonderful dedicated household pet, but unprovoked, it kills or mauls a neighbor's child. You get a different story from an Alaskan who has been out in the open in the wilderness. They will tell you that wolves don't gather around their camps to keep warm."

June frowned. "To prove a point, do you think you would find somebody willing to volunteer to be left defenseless in wolf territory in the winter when food was scarce? It would be interesting to see how long they lasted. The wolf's job in nature is to dispose of the weak. That's the old, the undefended young and the foolish. I feel sure a pack of hungry wolves wouldn't turn down a fawn, an injured elk, a sheep, or if the opportunity arose, an unprotected child, or adult for that matter. Remember, a wolf is a survivor and not overly concerned with what it eats, only that it gets to eat. Without a fire or a weapon to protect you, you would become an easy meal. We can't blame them, for like most predators, we all tend to follow the course of least resistance. I will say for sure, it would be impossible for me to just turn my back and allow wolves, or even a dog, to continue killing our animals. I am their protector while they are with us and not only would it take away a part of our livelihood, but food from many others."

"With so many people living around here it's unlikely they'll introduce wolves here, June," Charlie offered honestly.

"I guess I should have used your 'we' for livestock producers, as a collective, Charlie. The principle is the same, wherever they're released. The same rancher, who raises your food and contributes to your wildlife, is to be doubly penalized by society's environmental protectionism. First grazing wildlife will displace part of his livestock. Then he is expected to lose livestock to the predators as they expand their territory out of the parks. Do you consider that a fair or equitable exchange? Like everybody else, he's trying to make a living. If reintroduced predators kill a rancher's livestock, adequate funding for damage, or a right to control those causing damage, must be provided without a lot of bureaucratic BS."

"They relocate the animals known to cause damage back to another area of the wilderness," Charlie offered.

"That hasn't proven very successful either," Roy countered. "The relocating practices do not take into consideration that as nature demands, most predatory animals are very territorial. Like people, when they're happily settled into a territory they call home, they don't like to change friends or lifestyle. When an animal is relocated into an area already claimed by others of the same species, there will be fighting for control of territory. Usually the introduced animal will be driven off for it is the intruder. It gets pushed from one conflict to another until it is either killed or finally works its way back home and the cycle starts again. The rules are if a troublesome animal returns, it must be destroyed. Of course the public isn't normally informed when an animal is destroyed because it's not considered good public relations with animal lovers. We might as well let the rancher properly care for his stock and save a lot of money and flaring tempers."

"Even if these animals could be contained by fencing," June offered, "our parks can't provide habitat for everything."

"We have plenty of other government land around," Charlie returned.

"Much of that 'other' government land also provides grazing for domestic livestock."

"Those lands belong to all of us and should be retained for recreation and wildlife," Charlie insisted.

"You favor a blanket policy of permanently locking away the public lands for wildlife and recreation? Are you aware that they already represent 40% of the United States? Outside of designated parks and wilderness, that land trust is designated for multiple uses to benefit the people of the entire country. While locking it away would certainly help wildlife and provide human playgrounds, remember, right now you're reaping benefits from those multiple use lands with food, fiber, minerals and forest products. This state's natural timber resource and range fees provide funding for schools and maintenance of your recreational areas. Take it out of useful production and user fees will have to be imposed to compensate for lost revenues. In addition, if only private lands are to provide all livestock grazing and timber growing resources, as supplies go down prices will rise dramatically."

"It's easy to solve the loss of livestock grazing. We just have to give up eating meat and eat grain and vegetable products," Charlie offered.

"Without people eating meat," June laughed, "this farm and these animals wouldn't exist for you to enjoy. You are suggesting reversing the millions of years of human evolution that produced a stomach acid different from vegetation eaters. That acid allows us to survive on almost anything except the grasses. That acid is a major reason we have been so successful. The various grasses cover our planet. Do we totally ignore making use of the by product?"

"I don't believe everyone is quite ready to give up all the products derived from animals," Roy offered. "It would also take much joy out of eating for meat is readily available and a very good source of complex amino acids. In addition to reversing civilization and evolution, can I also assume you'd agree to a national policy of using grain based fuels instead of coal or oil to reduce air pollution?"

"Look what it would do for your farm economy," Charlie rebutted.

"But if everyone starts using even a small percentage of grain alcohol for automobiles, home heating and power plants, it's going to require raising a lot more grain. You're encouraging a return to farming marginal lands and we're back to erosion and displacing wildlife. You've come full circle and you can't have it both ways."

June grinned. "If you ever decided to go visit 'your' rangelands for some recreation and to view the wildlife, you would probably find them uninteresting. Just driving through there is only a slight chance you would see any wildlife for they remain almost invisible except to those who know where to look. The scenery alone would probably hold your interest for about an hour. They do, however, provide meat and animal products at a reasonable cost to the consumer. By limiting predation, livestock and wildlife are co-existing together now. Most western rangeland is very marginal and erodible dry land, and animal use creates less erosion and fewer chemicals than intense cultivation trying to raise your grain crops. What will represent a better multiple use of these lands?

Roy shook his head. "In the intensive farming areas we're also discovering that most of the highly productive varieties developed during the Green Revolution are very dependent upon fertilizer, weed and insect control. They produce little without the use of large amounts of each."

"That's where most of the toxic chemicals come from that are polluting our land and water," Charlie replied with contempt.

"First, the source of your food is land and water, Charlie," Roy returned. "Second, please give us poor farmers some credit. As with almost every other human endeavor to date, hindsight is always better than foresight. We still have no crystal ball to see into the future, and learning from mistakes is not a realm solely of agriculture. Different seedbed preparation is used for different soil conditions. We also know what the overuse of chemicals can do, not only to the environment but to those who use them. Like with everything else, farming methods continue to change with understanding."

"Still you have to consider it is the consumer who dictates what goes on the food in the market," June countered. "I haven't observed too many homemakers in the supermarkets picking out wormy fruit or insect and disease damaged vegetables to get produce grown without those chemicals. If those blemished fruits and vegetables do not sell at the sufficiently higher prices needed to produce them organically, the public is demanding the grower raise food without blemishes. So far, the only way for the farmer to earn a living has been with the chemicals."

"Not by a long shot are most of your polluting chemicals the result of agricultural use," Roy added. "Hard as it may be for some to believe, more pounds of chemicals are used per acre keeping up lawns, golf courses, flower beds and gardens, than in general agriculture."

"How do you figure?" Charlie rebutted. "Look at the vast areas of agricultural lands sprayed each year."

"I'm talking about 'pounds applied per acre sprayed'," Roy emphasized. "For financial reasons a farmer sprays only when it's necessary to protect the crop. To him it is economically important he use only enough to get the job done. To a homeowner, a bug or brown spot on the lawn or a shrub is a matter of lost pride and can't be tolerated. They spray too often, at the wrong season, or use the wrong chemical. They also figure if the directions call for one teaspoon in a gallon of water to cover one hundred square feet; they use that gallon on only fifty square feet figuring it will do better."

"But that's still a drop in the bucket in relationship to all the land sprayed," Charlie reiterated.

"With the increasing number of homes over farms," June returned, "put all your drops into a bucket and it will soon be overflowing. Home use represents a sizeable amount of toxins seeping into the soil. Even worse, it pollutes right where people live and pump ground water for domestic use."

Roy grinned. "Another problem not too many think about is the commercial fertilizers used for the high yield crops are by-products of oil refining. Oil will become even more costly as supplies dwindle and there's no way Green Revolution agriculture can sustain yields without fertilizer. When a crop is harvested, the nutrients that went into growing it move from the farm into other food chains."

"They'll have to do it the way they used to," Charlie proclaimed. "Farmers will have to return to using animal waste for fertilizer."

"From experience," Roy countered, "I know animal waste is insufficient to maintain fertility under the heavy cultivation necessary to keep your stores full of cheap groceries. Our livestock produce enough manure to fertilize only about a quarter of this farm per year, yet productivity decreases drastically with the third year. Spreading animal waste is also labor intensive, and stockpiling it for application at the proper time is now considered to be adding to pollution. Passing the increasing costs on to the consumer means increasing prices. The days of cheap groceries will soon be over."

"If the farmers received the same percentage return on their investment that business and industry expects every time it handles a food item," June offered, "your groceries would already be priced above what most consumers can afford to pay. Just over four and a half cents of the cost of a one pound loaf of bread goes to farmers. The rest is paid to the other economy for labor, transportation, packaging and marketing."

Roy smiled. "One of our bottom lines is without commercial fertilizers and chemicals to keep insects and diseases at bay we're going to diminish our harvests each year. What is going to happen to our expanding world populations?"

"We continue to keep surpluses in reserve," Charlie replied. "We'll be all right for a while. At least until we can figure better ways to increase yields again."

Roy looked at him and shook his head. "Get your head out of the sand, Charlie. If a harvest year fails, stockpiles only represent a few months for even our present numbers. That's not enough time for another crop to be ready for harvest. In addition to the time factor, as people like you try to preserve your chosen way of life, productive land someone doesn't want declared open space or wildlife habitat is becoming scarce. We can't completely depend on technology to keep us ahead any longer because it still takes time and luck to raise any crop. We still haven't found a way to get a healthy calf in less than nine months, a lamb in less than 145 days or hatch a chick in less than twenty-one. In most of the country, even with fertilizer, the climate decrees we can't raise two crops in a single year. What will we do?"

June saw a perturbed frown appear on the man's face. "If 'we' must, we could survive on the land we own, can you, Charlie? Do you keep enough food on hand to last a year; a month ... even a week? Can you even raise a radish between the decorative shrubs you planted around your house so you wouldn't have to get any exercise doing yard work?" June began to frown. "Sometimes when I hear people talking about saving the environment and their feeling for animals and lost wildlife, I think we are almost too hard on ourselves."

"What do you mean?" Charlie asked.

"We're a part of the same nature as they are, Charlie. We're doing what comes naturally, multiplying and expanding our territory. Nature, like a man walking, is constantly striving to remain balanced." She lifted her hands then flattened them horizontally and alternately moved them up and down several times. Then she stopped with one hand higher than the other. "When too many of any species exist, either prey or predator, nature steps in to restore the necessary balance." Her hands stopped at the same level.

"While we need to show concern for the world around us, we must also remain objective about our place within nature itself. Someday, as our numbers continue to increase," one hand rose again, "we will have to live by those same rules. Like the animals must do, we will live from day to day, having to accept whatever comes our way. With nowhere else to go that could mean mass starvation." Her hands shifted past one another completely. "Speaking of which reminds me of one loud, self-proclaimed animal lover I heard spouting off a couple of years ago. He said he would rather see all the deer on an island north of here, starve than allow hunters to hunt them for food. He said, and I quote, 'starvation is a painless death'."

"It makes me sick to hear of anything starving," Charlie offered decisively.

"Me too," June returned. "I'm afraid I see starvation as a very terrible and permanent state and can only hope the man just had his mouth in motion before his brain was completely into gear. I thought at the time, about how his physical presence made it quite obvious he had little first person experience with starvation other than perhaps a mental deficiency."

"Did you set him straight?" Charlie questioned.

"No one could tell him anything, but his loud protests gained the support of enough other uninformed souls and they got the corporation that owned the property to stop the hunt. I guess rather than endure the publicity they figured to let nature take its course. With no predators controlling their numbers, there were almost 300 deer by that fall. They found thirty in the spring and all were in poor condition. In desperation the animals had denuded the island, even striping the bark from the trees. Then they ate what seaweed they could reach. It will take years for the island vegetation to recover under browsing by any deer."

"What happened was an inhumane waste," Roy added in disgust. "But being environmentally sensitive and still not wanting any bad press nothing appeared in the newspapers about the resulting devastation. The idiot and his supporters probably went along their merry way thinking they had saved deer from what they felt to be a socially unacceptable death. Personally, I think they should have been required to watch what they considered acceptable. Then they might really understand nature."

"Now someone else has suggested putting coyotes on the island after the deer recover to keep them in check," June offered. "It puzzles me when I see someone who doesn't believe a man should kill an animal to eat, but feel it's completely proper to feed their fawns to another animal. I wonder if any of them ever give consideration to what is in the food they buy to feed their dog or cat or goldfish?"

Roy frowned. "While the deer population will remain controlled, the coyotes have no way to take in more territory to accommodate much growth in their numbers. I wonder if anyone has thought about what will control the coyotes. While it will be nature performing the balancing act, can we consider it any more civilized than harvesting cattle or sheep to feed people?"

Again I see genuine concern for the future on their faces, the Starman pondered, his head bouncing back and forth as he listened to their bantering. I have contemplated on much since deciding to stay here with my son but I do feel it would be a shame if all the variety here disappeared.

"While talking about the results of making uninformed decisions, we really should look back at history," June offered. "Think of how ironic it is that archaeologists say the domestication of animals and development of agriculture by ancient man gave rise to civilization as we know it. It allowed ancient peoples, limited by a nomadic lifestyle, to remain in permanent settlements and gather possessions. Grouping led to the development of language then writing that allowed accumulated knowledge to pass easily from one generation to the next. These are things that made our species successful. Now the environmental movement is trying to convince everyone that livestock and agriculture will be the downfall of civilization because they are polluting."

"We can't live without a livable environment," Charlie rebutted.

"But what do we choose to eliminate to save it ... 'your' grandchildren?" June questioned. "It seems to me that the economics of civilized man and environmental quality are realities going in opposite directions and locked on a collision course."

"Huh?" Charlie returned, his face contorted in surprise.

June spoke with conviction. "Just think about our economics for a moment. For total economic health, everyone must have a job and be producing something. With better methods more is produced and to utilize that productivity there must be more people to buy and consume those goods or services, now and on into the future. Yet there has to be a saturation point, because as we multiply our demands increase and we are using up nonrenewable resources.

"Now examine the other extreme; a self-sufficient existence having everyone living in balance with nature. Of necessity, such a world must contain few people for in essence, everyone must return to a simplistic, self-sustaining lifestyle, perhaps even nomadic to follow the food supplies nature provides. It is asking that we forget everything we have learned, give up our inquisitive natures and reverse civilization. I don't think many people are ready for that, for living without agriculture providing abundant food will be difficult at the very least. The middle of the road concept is to stop utilizing the natural resources, save all of nature and maintain everything at a status quo. That will leave us with plants and animals to look at, but very little to eat."

"With the vast majority of our population living in cities almost incapable of self-sufficiency," Roy added, "I find all these options laughable, but not very funny." He looked at Charlie. "Just look around. There are as many differing opinions about what needs to be done to save the Earth as there are vocal groups. The irony is while one group proposes we ignore knowledge for a return to this limiting simplistic existence, another fights to save every human being ever conceived, functional or not. We have so many fires raging out of control it's hard to decide which one to try squelching first with only a teapot full of water."

Still following the conversation, the Starman's head movement slowed, and then ceased entirely. Deeply into his thoughts he left the farm and drifted infinitely further. Soon he saw his home from a different point of view. What did you look like in your youth? he asked himself. I can only wonder for I must admit to having little interest in learning what had been. In my time of formation I considered only the excitement of developing self. What difference could examining options earlier have made? I contain insufficient information about the things you lost. Might you have been similar to this, with choices made by individuals? Is what you and we have become, better ... or only more civilized?

June looked at Charlie and shook her head slowly. "I know you consider yourself an environmentalist; still I am hard pressed to visualize you with a desire to return to such a natural existence."

"I've worked a lot of years to enjoy what I have," Charlie returned.

"I understand how you feel and I don't think you're alone," she confirmed. "I can't believe it would be acceptable to many so I must consider it impossible, especially with our numbers expected to double in less than half a human lifetime. Most people enjoy the benefits of civilization, but cannot see the costs of their existence unless the damage they can see affects them directly."

"I question how many of those really outspoken preservationists types live, on even a semi-permanent basis, as they are suggesting massive dependent populations should?" Roy offered. "How many have traded away the roof over their heads to go sleep under a tree at night? How many have volunteered to give up electricity, heat, air conditioning, refrigeration and all those things we've come to consider basic creature comforts of home? Have they abandoned their car, stereos, calculators and computers?

"I seriously doubt they visualize themselves as one of the destroyers; it is only all those others. The list of convenience items we take for granted daily, like toilet paper, safety packaging and a convenient selection of food at a nearby grocery, would grow into another long list of things to forget. If even some of the most outspoken thought about it first, I wonder if they would personally choose to return to life as it was for the common man ... let's say even at the turn of the twentieth century."

"Life was certainly simpler then," Charlie grinned. "I know I enjoyed my youth, though it wasn't quite the turn of the century."

"But Charlie, you were a youngster. Children usually don't need to think about the realities of life," June returned. "We all tend to remember only the good things and suppress the unpleasant. As we get older we talk about them as 'good old days'." Leaving no chance for anyone to comment, her words continued to flow, "Think about the working conditions. I don't imagine you remember hearing your parents complain about the long work hours experienced by the average citizen well into this century. Sixteen to eighteen hours a day, seven days a week was the norm. Transportation was terrible. A short twenty-mile trip now then required many hours on or behind a horse. Walking, even for a good walker, required an overnight stay. The one thing I would almost be willing to wager, is your parents did their best to make sure you didn't have to endure the same.

"Medical care was crude, at best, and many died just from simple infections that now a shot of antibiotic can cure. Then there were the wonderful diseases that took the children; polio, smallpox, diphtheria, measles; and those that didn't discriminate; cholera, typhoid, tuberculosis, malaria, to name a few. The reality was - people lived like the animals. The words written then tell of the high infant mortality rate nature decrees.

"My grandparents lived in that time frame and they had eleven children. Only five reached maturity. The truth is, by that time better health care had already increased infant survival rates and general longevity. In many parts of the world people wouldn't have to back up their civilization very far, but their goal is to try to catch up with us. An American family goes to pieces if they lose one child. Imagine what it would be like to have many, just to insure some might survive."

For fear she would carry on, Charlie returned hastily "Okay, perhaps it wasn't really all that great, but one thing you can't argue about is it certainly was simpler."

"Without a doubt," she offered. "Not many had time to fret themselves over causes like you do. Living from day to day and raising a family took all of their time and energy. The average man had very little opportunity to better himself; a woman almost none. We lost many great minds because of a lack of educational opportunities. I often think of just how ignorant they still were in the 'good old days'."

June blushed as she looked at Roy, his mouth slightly open at her outburst. "I'm sorry, but Charlie really hit a sore spot. Personally, I can see a much greater destiny for mankind than returning to the cave. We can never go backward into ignorance." She took a deep breath. "With that I'll step down from my soap box on the side of civilization."

Charlie looked almost apologetic. "I guess we do take improvements for granted. Maybe things just seemed good because I was young."

"Right," Roy replied quietly. "I think we all like to think back to our years of innocence. When I think of all we have learned in just my lifetime, I'm in awe. It makes me think of how much more remains for Amy and Sandy."

"When talk turns from learning to returning to the ways of nature, one thing bothers me," June offered. "Many of those who think themselves environmentally sensitive seem to feel it's their place to try to change nature. They choose to see only the beauty but refuse to see the violence and cruel realities of natural relationship required to remain balanced. They don't see what it really is ... beautiful, interesting, and constantly seeking perfection for any species to survive. The nearest to perfect I see is the shark, a killing machine. If not near that perfection it would not have lasted unchanged for so long.

"I guess in refusing to see nature as it is, people try to make it over in our own image of what they think we should be. Perhaps they feel man's destiny is truly a return to the Biblical, Garden of Eden. If the life described in that Garden is perfection ... you know; 'the lion shall lie down with the lamb', for anything with an inquisitive nature I'm afraid it would soon become a deadly bore." She smiled, lifting her eyebrows. "But things might pick up a little, when something got hungry."

Charlie frowned, and then noticed the silent visitor beside June cock his head sideways and raise his eyebrows as though shocked by the conversation. "Don't you have anything to add?" he rebuked. "After all, these things affect everyone."

"Yes, Paul," June asked, "do you have any thoughts you'd like to share?"

Paul thought for a long moment then spoke softly. "Since your last discussion, I have been using the library. I have read a great deal about what has been written of natural balances. Though at first they appear harsh, they are beautiful and complex systems." He looked at Roy and June. "The day you first showed us your farm, June said: 'The bottom line is, when we keep animals in a limited space, like on this farm, at the end of any year the numbers of each must be the same, or fewer, than when we started. If not, we will overgraze our pastures and all will suffer'."

June looked at Paul quizzically. I think he recited that word for word, she thought. I wonder why he remembered?

Starman continued. "After due consideration, I must conclude many of the environmental problems you have discussed are the result of man's successes. The increasing number of disappearing species must be the result of their need to compete with an ever-increasing number of people. With intelligence you see what happens to other creatures that get out of balance with food supplies. To compensate for nature's attempts to achieve balance, you develop medicines, farm vegetative crops and care for and protect chosen animals from predators so you might harvest their overproduction. Those efforts save many lives." He took a deep breath. "But the ultimate survival of any life form requires function within the total system, a source of sustenance and a space to exist. As human populations continue to increase, those less competitive will decrease. It cannot be otherwise."

"I think I understand what you're saying, Paul," Roy returned. "Like within the fences of this farm, everything must live within the confines of the planet?"

Paul nodded. "Yes, the area it provides is a larger scale, but it is self limiting just the same."

"I guess it's like we were talking about after the picnic," June offered. "We are in a tug of war for land resources between nature's reality, our way of life and our economic growth."

Roy grimaced. "But will we be able to choose to preserve land for wildlife and recreation for a few, when people are hungry? I'm afraid there is only one decision we can make. People will come first."

"On that point I believe June was right again," Paul replied. "She said 'the economics of civilized man and environmental quality are realities going in opposite directions and locked on a collision course'."

There he goes again with a direct word for word quote, June thought. This man must have a photographic memory.

"Individuals and even entire species can, and will, fail on their own," Paul continued. "But many are failing not because they have lost function…"

"…They fail because our needs are displacing them," Roy finished. "It's logical. If two things try to compete for the same area or food supply, the stronger, more resourceful succeeds."

"Correct, and it is beginning to appear that few species will prevail over the demands of an ever increasing human population," Paul added.

"Are you trying to say we have to stop multiplying?" Charlie asked.

"Not only must you stop multiplying, but you must find ways to reduce your numbers if it is your desire to continue to enjoy much of the diversity now existing. Every enterprise you undertake displaces more."

Roy shrugged his shoulders. "Sounds pretty basic. As long as people continue to make more and more people, everything but those that serve or can find a small niche among and between us will have to decrease or disappear."

"That is what I've been trying to say," Charlie huffed. "If we don't do something we'll ultimately be guilty of destroying the Earth. That's what this new Earth Day thing is all about. It's trying to raise everyone's awareness about what's happening to the quality of life."

"It's a good move," June returned. "It can get people and maybe eventually government's attention, but I feel sure if we don't figure it out soon, old mother earth could continue rolling around the sun quite well without us. I think the movement should acknowledge one thing, Charlie ... it should be called Man Day, because it is species Homo sapiens we mean to save."

Paul gazed serenely at Charlie. "On two occasions I have heard you speak only of the quality of 'your' life," he returned. "That is wrong, for there must be quality for 'all' life. As an intelligent species man cannot continue acting like an animal without choices. I think I see what sets man apart from the animals. Man can learn from mistakes and when he accepts responsibility for what he's doing, he can figure a way to fix things. If he wants quality, he must limit quantity. If not, like the deer on the island, nature will keep trying to balance it for you."

"But how do we get people and government to face the real problem?" June asked.

"I think people need to discuss it more often," Roy offered. "When citizens keep pointing out the problem, government has to listen."

"From your earlier comment, Charlie, I think your children have already recognized the principle," June offered.

"But only on the basis of a personal economic ability," Paul stated with purpose. "Choices must be made to benefit all. While it is quite evident you cannot save all species you continue to displace, you must rethink the basics of economics to maintain a livable world for all those capable of sharing it with you. These things you must do with equality and justice, and for the good of all. Take a good look at everything around you and give consideration that this miracle of life occurs so rarely."

"I think many saw the problem years ago," Charlie offered. "It's almost embarrassing that almost all governments continue to ignore it."

June shook her head. "I think the politicians ignore it because it's such an emotional topic with so many people. It's almost like saying you're against religion, the flag and motherhood. Even the words, population control, seem taboo in political circles. No one wants to acknowledge that by having a large family they may not be doing their children any favors."

"I think governments avoid it because it is in direct opposition to economic growth," Roy returned. "You know, the more consumers, the more gross national product, the more gross national product, the more taxes; the more taxes, the more money to spend on making the citizens feel secure in our economic growth. Economics is the major reason for the rise to power of bigger and more controlling government. I don't believe we will soon see them willingly relinquish the power of control."

Charlie shook his head slowly. "In America it is a crisis when we can't get enough gas for our cars. In the future, how might we respond to famine? It continues to make me shudder thinking about all those starving deer."

Paul's eyebrows rose. Starvation. Famine. He smiled. Now I won't have to ask Scott what famine means. The smile faded. Yes, I have seen this. I cannot forget the looks on the faces of those homeless and hungry people I photographed in Arizona.

"But in a democracy, what can government do without interfering with an individual's right to choose?" Roy asked.

"People must be educated about the consequences of not acting," June offered.

"Instead of rewarding a family with tax deductions, perhaps deductions should be given to those not having a child within the calendar year," Charlie returned. "That would slow down population growth at the same time it would provide more spending to benefit the economy."

"That sounds like a good start for us," June returned, "but what about the rest of the world? In the developing countries, many still have a dozen or more children and we can't impose our standards on them."

Charlie thought momentarily. "Maybe we should attach some strings to foreign aid and famine relief, like the mandatory use of the newer long term birth control drugs."

"But we can't force them do something they don't want to." Roy offered.

June smiled. "If given an option, I can hardly believe a woman anywhere wants to keep having children while she watches her growing ones dying from malnutrition."

Paul smiled. "To attain your goal you need give up no right other than acting irresponsibly toward those to follow. Make decisions because they are the right thing to do, or the human species may also become extinct."

Charlie's eyebrows shot up. "Extinct?"

"With aggressive behavior and weapons of mass destruction it remains a distinct possibility, if, when a crisis arises you resort first to weapons instead of thinking. Even intelligent life must continue to earn its place or disappear like your dinosaurs. Under nature's rules, some will likely survive, but either way many will suffer and die for lack of correct decision making. Your 'bottom line' is you too must adhere to the rules of balance established for all species, for as you said earlier, your excess numbers no longer have anywhere to go."

You? ... Your? ... Man's? ... Human species? ...Intelligent life? June puzzled. These past weeks, we have all noticed, in talking with Paul, that he often uses this detached point of view. Again I'm hearing a consistency of something being lost in translation. I feel sure he is foreign, but well aware of world problems. Still his use of language makes him sound like he isn't a part of them. Right now he sounds like some of those smug activists who drive home to a new wooden house from a meeting to save trees. She continued to study the genuine look of concern on his face. But somehow, I don't believe he is.

"We're not exactly out of places to go, yet," Charlie offered with a grin. "We have lots of planets to colonize."

"They are not suitable," Paul returned confidently.

"We can adapt," Charlie said smugly.

"Man does not yet have the necessary technology to adapt," Paul stated.

"We've adapted to every possible climate here on Earth."

"Earth is very different from any of the other planets in this star system. Settlements on any of them would require all basic life support be brought from Earth. That would be very expensive and would not solve any problems here."

Charlie returned Paul's calm gaze, and then his eyes narrowed. "How can you be so sure we can't live anywhere else?"

"I've studied the planets and they are not suitable for life as you know it. They are either too hot or too cold and it would be difficult to maintain body temperature for the available fuel resources that do exist are still beyond your technology. There is no free water on any of them and you cannot breathe the available gases. You also cannot obtain digestible nutrition from any available sources. Basically, you will find them very inhospitable. The day may come when you may leave this system to explore elsewhere, but problems must be solved here long before you will ever be welcome in space."

June frowned deeply. Star systems? Life, as you know it? All this is coming from a photographer? There is a secret side to this Paul Forrester. He is something more than a man with a camera searching for a picture. He's obviously well educated, sensitive, observant, truth seeking, yet, at the same time totally able to accept life's realities. Her eyes narrowed subtly. I also believe he is more involved in both the physical and natural sciences than he's letting on. Is he traveling to obtain information for a thesis ... a book? Maybe he feels he's been studying theory too long and it's time to observe life outside a laboratory.

"Welcome?" Charlie questioned.

"By those already out there," Paul offered innocently.

A broad grin spread over Charlie's face. "Okay ... now I get it. You're one of those people who believe life exists elsewhere?"

Paul's eyebrows rose when he realized what he had said. He smiled and covered gracefully. "Yes ... I must confess to being one of those."

As Charlie prepared to deliver another rebuttal, all heads turned to see Amy and Scott leading a charging group of noisy teenagers down the driveway. "I'm still raising two teenagers and I think I'm getting too old for them," Charlie announced, loud enough to be heard. "We'll have to talk again." His frown deepened and he bolted for his car, while within the ranks of teenage enthusiasm, one boy about Scott's age ducked to the rear of the group.

As Scott approached he recognized it was Charlie leaving, and grinned. "Did we rescue everybody?"

"I think you rescued your dad," June laughed. "He and Charlie were just about to get into it about the plight of being the first man on Mars."

"My dad always likes to argue," the evasive teenager offered as he performed another maneuver among the milling bodies that brought him over to the picnic table. "I'm glad he didn't see me. He'd surely have had something critical to say about fooling around all day." Hearing the comment, June and Roy exchanged smiles realizing they'd spent over an hour with Charlie.

Still on a roll from the day's excitement, Scott looked at his father. His grin widened, and then he laughed. "Would you have turned pink, Dad?" At what was apparently a joke, all the teenagers joined him in laughing. Scott observed a subtle frown from his father's face and noticed June's obvious interest in his response. "Family joke," he quickly offered and another Starman family slip passed smoothly into history.

%%%

Amy asked permission for her friends to play pool. Receiving an approving nod, the teenagers took over the poolroom. Almost constant, noise and laughter emitted from the poolroom for over an hour then slowly groups of young people left to return home. As the last departed, the family moved in and the gaming continued. To compete Paul had to play under a strict sliding handicap system Roy placed on any of the better players stopping by for a game. To produce equality with everybody else, Paul had to make special shots when anybody demanded. Outwardly it appeared to work well for he often missed. In reality he felt it important not to be left out of this aspect of the family life experiences Scott and he continued to enjoy. To do so meant he had to concede to less than his full potential in games of mathematical skill. He won some and lost many at his discretion. Planning plays to lose with no one becoming suspicious, became a much greater challenge.

Day faded into darkness and private fireworks became more frequent. Several families gathered at a vantage point on a high hill of the farm to watch the official fireworks display. Paul smiled when the fourth missile exploded into a multitude of bright blue lights. That reminds me of everyone on the ship, he thought. Momentarily two more of gracefully spiraling white specks erupted among the blue. And that looks like the rapidly passing lights always visible from the ship, he reveled. Leaning toward Scott, Paul whispered, "Now that I can enjoy."

"Yeah," Scott returned, his face continuing to reflect his excitement as another rocket lit up the night sky. "I wish you'd add some more interesting fireworks," he whispered back.

"You know I can't," Paul said.

"Not even a little one?"

Paul looked critically at his son, obviously still full of enthusiasm for his holiday, and whispered, "Not even a little one. You know what happened the other time." Momentarily, another skyrocket exploded in a splash of red and white. In its light Paul could see a return to reality on Scott's face. Scott has been enjoying his Fourth of July, he thought. Why did I have to ruin it? He placed his hand on Scott's shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze.

By the time the fireworks display ended, Scott had recouped most of his enthusiasm for he still had the major share of his sack of fireworks. Amy and Sandy eagerly helped set off the cones and fountains, joining other local neighborhood displays in a continuing flow of colored light and noise.

With Scott's entertainment over, the families agreed to retire before the 5th of July. Morning meant the start of hauling hay.

Scott turned to his father as he settled into bed. "Well, what did you think of the Fourth of July?"

"I'll say one thing about it, it's loud," Paul replied.

"That's celebrating, Dad." He frowned, "Don't they ever celebrate where you come from?"

Paul smiled. "We celebrate, but not like this. My world is much more..." he searched for a special word he thought his son could identify with, "...it is much more civilized."

Obviously disappointed Scott asked, "You mean you didn't enjoy today?"

"I didn't say I liked things more civilized any longer." His father paused briefly. "Yes, Scott, I did enjoy your independence celebration, even if it was noisy. I enjoyed the festivities, the picnic, the parade and I even enjoyed the fireworks, but I will admit I didn't think too much of carnival ride."

"I understand, but the noise is tradition." Remembering the look on his father's face, he chuckled. "You know, on our ride I think you traded your pink for green."

"I didn't feel pink either," Paul returned, grinning discretely.

"What I want to know," Scott asked hopefully, "is, overall, what did you think of it? It was fun wasn't it?"

"It was fun," Paul offered, "but 'overall' ... I think I like Christmas better."

Exchanging goodnights, quiet fell over the camper but the explosions continued long into the night.

########################################

Paul and Scott awakened to a bright sunny Sunday morning. They went into the house and found breakfast in the making. Afterward, Scott left promptly to go see Amy while Roy and Paul went out to feed and check the livestock. Returning to the house Paul glanced toward the pond. "Roy," he announced with concern, "I only see twenty-three little ducks on the pond."

"We can hardly keep little ducks here, Paul," Roy offered. "There are too many predators. By tomorrow there will be less and usually at the end of four or five days, we'll be lucky if there are any left."

"I haven't seen anything chasing them," Paul replied with concern.

"I heard the ducks making noise last night, so there was either a raccoon or an owl after them. During the day it's hawks, crows and neighborhood cats. If they're caught out in the open, they're goners."

"Why don't you protect them like you do the sheep?"

"It would mean locking them up and we don't want to do that. We have them around to eat insects. If we lock them in a cage, they won't be doing the job. Just think of them as living by the laws of nature. This is the second time this year the ducks have hatched little ones, but only one lived to join them. That's nature at work. The predators have to eat too."

Paul grimaced, and then walked into the house.

By ten Roy officially declared the morning dew off the baled hay. Six men gathered and the work began when Roy brought the red flatbed truck out of the shed. Everyone jumped on and they rolled out into the field. Roy told Cal and Scott to remain on the truck with Cal instructing Scott on how to pack the bales efficiently for hauling to the barn.

Starman noticed sweat pouring off his body after heaving the first few sixty-pound bales up onto the truck. Fine grass chaff and dust constantly fell back into his face from each upward thrown bale. It sifted down the front and back of his shirt, sticking uncomfortably to his wet skin and equally wet shirt. Now I realize the work we have already done has been easy, he considered. This is the hard work Roy spoke of when he originally made his offer of employment to someone who believed he had muscles. Roy drove the truck between the stacks of bales until Cal yelled, "We're loaded. Let's get her tied up for home". Paul saw the apparently experienced help starting to walk across the field toward the barn.

Roy got out of the cab. The steep hills in the field made tying the hay on the truck necessary. He walked toward the back assuming the final tying as his job. Cal had two long ropes, earlier tied to the front bumper of the truck, hanging down over the rear. Paul watched curiously as Roy quickly tied the rope into a strange knot that left a loop, but Roy's hands had been in the way and he couldn't follow the full action. Roy ran the end of the rope under a hook on the truck, strung it back through the loop in the knot and pulled down hard. Another quick knot and Paul knew it was complete. The procedure had taken only a few seconds. Roy saw a puzzled look on Paul's face and laughed. "It's a knot known as a Truck Driver's Son of a Bitch," he offered. "It can be tied very tight by using the principles of leverage."

"Roy, we don't have time for any demonstrations if you want to get most of this in today," Cal advised as he climbed into the cab.

Ignoring the comment, Roy grinned then moved over to the second rope and proceeded to tie it slowly as Paul intently followed the motion. Seeing the man still pondering, Roy walked to the truck cab. He turned back toward Paul, grinning. "The rest of the guys are almost to the barn already. You might as well ride back with us." At the barn Paul untied the knot slowly, studying the sequence in reverse.

Cal and Scott remained on the truck and their strong arms moved the hay from the truck onto a conveyor that elevated the bales into the loft of the large old barn. Roy, Paul, and the other two men of the crew stacked the hay in neat layers as it came into the vast inside storage area. With the first load off, everyone jumped on the truck and Roy rolled out to the field again. Again Scott and Cal did the packing while the rest loaded.

Roy got out when he heard Cal shout 'we're loaded', and saw the men heading back. "Hey Cal, who tied things up?" Roy asked as he came to the rear to find the load neatly tied.

"Not me for sure," Cal advised from the top of the load.

Roy gave Paul a sideways glance for he was just starting toward the barn. His brow wrinkled. "Just a moment, Paul," he called. As Paul turned Roy motioned to the ropes. "Did you do those?"

Paul frowned apprehensively. "I watched you the last time. I thought I might save some time. Isn't it correct?"

"It is," Roy returned. "You mean you learned how to tie the Truck Driver's SOB by watching me twice?"

Sitting with Cal on top of the load and ready to enjoy the ride back to the barn, Scott heard the conversation. He scrambled toward the rear of the truck. To Dad, I know figuring out Roy's knot has to be simple, he thought. He looked down over the end of the truck. I see Dad's, 'did I do or say something wrong again' look. "Dad's always been good with figuring out complicated things," he offered hoping the matter would pass. "In addition to being a photographer, he's a computer repairman, you know."

Roy grinned and shook his head. He placed his hand on Paul's shoulder, urging him up toward the cab for another ride to the barn.

Cal, drawn by the conversation looked down at Paul climbing into the cab and frowned. He turned to Scott. "Roy calls it simple. Simple maybe to him, but I haven't been able to figure it out in almost eighteen years of doing this. It's a loop here, flop something over there and catch it all with another loop. I think it will always be a mystery to me. A few years ago I just gave up trying to have him teach me. Either I'm a slow learner or he's a poor teacher."

Roy parked the truck for unloading and got out. "Scott, will you go get a bucket of salt and bring it up to the loft? There are a few damp bales in this load and we need to salt it down to cure." He saw a confirming nod as Scott slid down off the hay. Paul walked over as Roy started untying the ropes. "You and Cal can unload this one." Still flabbergasted, Roy broached the subject of the knot again. "Paul, I've tried to teach Cal that knot for years. He never ties it right. How is it you learned to do it in a few minutes by just watching?"

"Perhaps his talents lie in other directions," Paul offered. "I like working with diagrams and figures."

"And jigsaw puzzles too, I'll bet," Roy chuckled, still shaking his head as he walked away on his way back inside the barn.

Cal came to the back of the loaded truck and pulled Paul up onto the stacked hay. He faced him. "You know, you just made me feel rather stupid. I guess you just confirmed I'm a slow learner."

"I didn't mean to do that, Cal," Paul replied sincerely. "Like Scott said, it's just easy for me. We each have things we do well and must not compare ourselves to another whose talents might lie in another direction. You do a wonderful job of teaching children who have given up trying." Cal smiled his appreciation as he heard the call to start the hay up the conveyor.

Kathy came out of the house on the third load and took over driving the truck so Roy could help with the loading. The next load was on and Paul tied it. Under close examination a highly observant person might have noticed each knot to be absolutely identical as though someone had reproduced a photograph of the first. This time Paul analyzed the knot as he tied it and devised a simplified explanation. He instructed Cal over the next two loads.

"Maybe I'm not so stupid," Cal announced, having just tied the present load unassisted. He winked at Paul. "Maybe Roy is just impatient."

"Everyone cannot be a good teacher just as everyone cannot be a good farmer," Paul offered as they rode back to the barn. "You have patience, Cal, and a gift for teaching. I could see it in the faces of your students the day we were at your school."

"You could see what?"

Paul smiled. "They sense you care about them and they respond to their feelings."

"I do like teaching these drop outs," Cal acknowledged with pride. "It's a challenge to pique their curiosity about anything. I have to admit it doesn't work with all of them, but each success is its own reward. I've devised a new teaching technique from your pool demonstration at the picnic."

"You did?" Paul questioned with surprise.

"I did the same thing with them as you did for your audience. We took a trip to a nearby pool hall and I used pool moves to demonstrate applicable geometry and physics. We analyzed the angles and responses observed on the table. I guess they related better to seeing geometry in action than reading a textbook or watching me draw lines on a blackboard." He smiled broadly. "My group tested beyond expectations in comprehension and had a good time learning. I've been thinking about other ways of using interesting demonstrations as teaching tools."

Paul smiled at him. "Your world needs teachers like you."

"Thank you. I appreciate that, especially coming from you. At the Seattle Center and at the school I could see immediately you possessed an unusually unique ability. Have you ever given any consideration to teaching, Paul?"

"Right now teaching and getting to know my son better is my first priority. Teenagers still confuse me and..." The conversation ended abruptly when a voice from inside the barn yelled, 'We need hay, not talk. We're wasting daylight."

With Cal working during the week, and visiting Johnson's a priority for the weekends, Paul had only spoken to him occasionally since the picnic. Now he enjoyed the opportunity to talk freely as they often unloaded the truck together. Paul decided to casually question Cal about an earlier observation. "I notice Roy and June, and your family, always say good-night or good-bye with a hug. Scott and I have been included and it makes us feel like part of the family. I haven't observed this often in others. Can you tell me something about this ritual?"

"Ritual," Cal laughed, "I guess you could call it a ritual, at that. I should start at the beginning." He grinned broadly at the renewal of a pleasant past memory. "When I met Kathy, with me it was a true case of love at first sight. I knew in my heart, she was the right one for me and I courted her until she said 'yes'. When she brought me to the island to introduce me to the family, it was a case of personal shock and I wondered, for the first time, what I was getting myself into."

"Shock?" Paul questioned.

"To me it was a shock," Cal confirmed. "I hate to admit this, but my parents never expressed affections, openly. I know they loved me and each other, but I don't remember seeing them ever hug each other in my presence. I grew up thinking it wasn't normal to express physical affection openly." He smiled. "I was almost overwhelmed by the 'ritual' until one day I realized what I had missed. I'm sure my mother must have comforted me when I got hurt, but I can't remember being hugged just, for me. When I was first introduced to the goodnight or good-bye hug among the family, I realized it embarrassed me to show affection. Growing up the word was that adults, and particularly men, do not hug each other."

"Why not?" Paul asked quizzically.

"I really don't understand where the idea came from, for after a while, with practice, I discovered it more and more gratifying."

"I have also found it gratifying," Paul returned.

"Do we share a similar background?" Cal asked curiously.

"In many ways," Paul replied. Then wishing to move the conversation in another direction, he raised his eyebrows and grinned. "It is quite obvious you and Kathy have a happy marriage."

"Yes. In addition to being husband and wife, she's also my best friend. A good relationship with my in-laws has been a generous bonus."

"From observation I have noticed that if they allow it to happen, most all human beings have a great ability to share themselves with others."

"After thinking about it, Paul, I came to the same conclusion. One day I asked Kathy about the 'ritual'. She said that the feeling among her family had always been that no one should ever leave for the day or go to sleep at night while angry. The reasoning was, if you feel forced to express such affection, freely, you should talk about it before leaving or saying goodnight. Each time we part it could be forever. With a hug we can have only closeness to remember."

Paul nodded his head in agreement. "True," he stated. "We never know what tomorrow will bring. We must live each day for itself."

"And we should enjoy them to the fullest," Cal confirmed. Unloading the truck had become almost second nature by now and during their conversation the bales had disappeared up the elevator into the barn. As they rode back to the field Paul thought how a lack of physical closeness and unshared feelings almost destroyed Dale, Ellen and Ted Taylors' relationship. He marveled at how much difference such simple and honest gestures make in human relationships.

They hauled hay from mid morning until almost dark. Often teamed together, Cal and Paul talked freely about teaching techniques, school and family. June prepared meals, and several times during the day brought liquid refreshments to the barn for the day was hot and heavy perspiration made replacing fluids a necessity.

%%%

Monday morning Cal returned to work and Paul worked equally as well with other members of the crew. He continued to listen and observe, storing away information for future use. Cal got home from work early and when the final bale entered the barn, joined in the whoops of joy. Haying on the Foster farm was over for another year and Roy paid everybody.

Paul watched as Scott walked up the driveway. My son is unable to wait another minute for Cal to pick him up. He has a date with Amy for a teen dance at the high school. Over the past weeks I have observed a growing bond between them. I have been happy for them, but as it was when we had to leave Kelly, Scott will be sad. I think I'll be sad as well. We have learned much and there is much still to learn about living closer to nature on this world. Seeing the calf born excited him and afterward we had a real son and father talk about the complexity of what we had seen. Now I realize how vitally alive and risky the renewal process of this world is compared with mine. As Scott disappeared in his attempt to save a few minutes by intercepting Cal, Paul turned to the Fosters. "Now that our work for you is finished, we will be leaving in the morning. Cal said he would give us a ride back to the mainland. I want to thank you for the work and for the use of the pickup and camper." He smiled warmly and handed the vehicle keys to Roy. "We've really enjoyed being at your farm."

"What do you mean you're leaving," Roy said, ignoring the offered keys. "You haven't finished your search."

"Well ... no," Paul returned, "but it is time we move on again. We've been here for almost a month."

"Haven't you been happy staying with us?" June asked.

"You've been very good to us and we have learned a lot," Paul replied with a smile. "Now we can say, truthfully, that we can operate heavy equipment."

"We thought you might want to stick around and continue to help on the farm," June said sadly. "You said you liked to learn new things and as the seasons pass there's always something new going on around here."

"I thought you might be getting tired of having guests."

"Never," she replied. "I guess I'm beginning to think of you both as part of the family. It makes me feel like a mother, having to answer so many questions, Paul." She smiled, looking curiously at him. "You're different than anyone I've ever met before."

Naturally interested when someone found him unusual, Paul actively sought a hint on how to blend in better. "Different in what way?"

June looked at him appreciatively. "Paul, do you remember when you and Scott first came here and we were talking about having to butcher Old Dinah?"

"Yes, the first day we were here when you took us around the farm."

"Right away I could see your sensitivity to what we accept to be the facts of life and death of living on a livestock farm. Yet the day it had to be done, you helped us. You seemed just as curious about the how, as you had been about listening to the why."

Paul returned her look serenely. "I find all aspects of life here interesting and the ending of life is part of it." Then smiling, he offered, "Though I will admit, I enjoyed helping save the calf's life better than ending your Dinah's."

"That feeling is shared," June, replied. "I don't like killing the animals either, but it must be."

"Now, I know how you feel," Paul replied. "I also understand that being born and dying are both a part of ... being. There are many things I have learned while we've been here on the farm. Still the fact remains, our work for you is finished and it is time for us to go. We must continue our search for Mr. Johnson and his sister or we will never find Scott's mother."

"Can't you just continue the search from here?" Roy asked, hopeful of swaying his decision.

"So far we have found little to encourage us. If we cannot find him we wish to continue to search for Jenny. In addition, there is also basic economics; I need to get more work. The search is taking us further and further and we are using up our funds."

"It's true we haven't got as much work for you and Scott any longer," Roy admitted, "but in the summer there are lots of other odd jobs available."

If you want, we can introduce you to the right people," June offered. "Cal is sure he can get you some more lecture work if you want. You just have to accept pay."

Paul turned toward her. "I can't understand why someone would want to get paid for helping others, especially children."

"While that may be true," she replied, "a basic fact is if you are using your time to do something for others, even children, you cannot be using the same time earning your living."

"But how much could one charge for just a lecture?" Paul questioned.

"A modest day's pay is probably fair," Roy offered. "If your presentation is as good as Cal says, any school district would be willing to pay a day's wages for your knowledge."

Paul frowned. "We couldn't expect a whole day's wages for only a couple hours work. That wouldn't be right. An hourly wage for a teacher and expenses would do."

"Do you want me to have Cal check the market?"

Paul looked at Roy with a curious frown. "The market?"

June could not keep herself from laughing at this questioning look. "Not the 'store' market, Paul, the 'employment' market," she offered. "In the one, items are sold - in the other, talents."

Paul shook his head slightly. "How can so many words in this language have so many different meanings?" he asked.

"I guess it gives us all a challenge to learn something complicated when we're growing up."

"It is a challenge," he replied.

"How is it that you know so little about the language, Paul?" June asked quizzically.

"I've been away from here."

"Somewhere English isn't spoken at all?" she quizzed. "I didn't think there were many places like that around any longer."

"Where I have been, it is not the language spoken."

"And where might that be?" she asked probingly.

Paul thought briefly of home and realized he couldn't continue to answer. "I come from a different kind of world," he replied truthfully. "It's far from here and I'm sure you wouldn't recognize the name."

I have noticed before Paul's hesitancy to talk about where he has been, she thought. Fleetingly she saw a prisoner of war camp. Many Vietnam veterans don't like to talk about their experiences either. It really isn't that important to know. What is important to me is to encourage him to stay. "Probably not," she replied, acceding to a perceived hint for privacy. "I was never very good at geography." Seeing a look of relief, she decided to present the piece de resistance. "At least think about staying on with us. You'll have a vehicle with living quarters, and not having to work steadily will give you the free time necessary to continue your search."

"The arrangement will be the same as for haying," Roy added. "Room, board, five bucks an hour for your work and time off when you need it."

"You make it sound too good," Paul returned earnestly. "I'll talk to Scott when he gets home.

########################################

Earlier I felt happy, Scott thought, his arms wrapped snugly around Amy as they danced. I know I'm hanging heavily on her, but that's the way I feel right now. This is the end of the evening and it is our last one together. I was happy when we got the hay in this afternoon. At the time I thought the big job was over and it was time to start having fun again. Then Dad reminded me that we have no job any more. By now he's already told Roy and June we're leaving. How did I let this happen to me again. I guess I'm torn between wanting to stay with Amy, who is real and right now, and finding Mom who is just an old photograph and a vague memory. The music ended, but Scott and Amy continued to hold each other for several moments longer.

Cal dropped Scott off about midnight and Paul told Scott of Roy and June's offer. They discussed it and Scott offered no argument about staying. Finding living in the camper enjoyable, they agreed the farm did make a good base to continue the search. In addition, taking odd jobs or doing lectures wasn't as likely to attract Fox as Paul Forrester's field of photojournalism. After all, the career change to computers had provided two months of peace.

June was working on breakfast when they came to the house in the morning. "We have decided to stay," Paul announced, "but we should pay for our groceries."

"If we don't feed you we'll have to pay more. If there is one thing we have plenty of on the farm, it's groceries," June replied with assurance. "Besides, I like having you eating with us. It gives us some time to chat. You have a way of encouraging deep thoughts about things I haven't thought much about. You make me think, and I believe we all need to do more of that."

Roy offered his hand. "The arrangements will be the same as before. ... Agreed?"

Paul, unable to think of a meaningful argument, conceded with a shrug of his shoulders. "Agreed."

%%%

July was passing rapidly. One morning June took Scott aside after breakfast. "From the insurance information Roy took from your dad, I see his birthday is Friday. We'd like to have a little party for him. Do you have any idea of something he might like?"

Dad's birthday is Friday? Scott thought. I never even considered he might have a real birthday. What could be better than to use Paul Forrester's? It is on his driver's license. This could be fun. Now reflecting on June's request, he thought of a lot of things his father could use, but had to reject them outright. "The only problem with any gift is it has to be something we can carry in our bags or pockets," he advised. Traveling and camping out doesn't allow us to take much with us."

"You camp out a lot, don't you?" she asked. Seeing Scott's nod, her eyes narrowed suddenly and a grin appeared on her face. "Never mind, Scott. I think I already know what to get him."

"Even if you don't give him anything a party would be great. He's never had a birthday party."

"His parents never gave him a birthday party?" she asked in disbelief. "What did his parents do to him, deposit him in a Tibetan monastery? No English, no pocket knife, no birthday party."

At June's surprise, Scott realized he had just pulled one the faux-pass's his father seemed to do so easily and had to cover for himself this time. "I guess Grandma must have given him a party when he was little," he offered. "What I meant is he hasn't had one since we've been together."

"Well, he's getting one this year," she confirmed. "We'll try to make it a surprise."

"He'll love it," Scott returned impishly. Then momentarily his thoughts drifted back to Stella Forrester. Though I haven't thought about grandma much lately, I'm glad I got the chance to know her. I like thinking about having a grandma, though I know I'm not really related to her at all. It gets confusing. Though my father is now her son, her son isn't really my father. My only relationship to Dad... He stumbled ... to Paul Forrester is alien. I'm sure glad I don't have to try to explain it to anyone. Once Dad tried to explain how I was different. Afterward I even read a book about genes and inheritance, but still I have to admit I don't exactly understand.

June could see instantly that Scott was miles away and made a guess about where. "Scott, you mentioned your grandmother. Does she live nearby? If you wish, we can invite her."

"I met her for the first time last year, just before Christmas. She died on Christmas Eve," Scott offered sadly.

"I'm very sorry," June replied sympathetically. "At least you did get to meet her."

"She was a nice lady and a great Grandma," Scott returned with a smile. "She taught me how to make pancakes. It was ... kind of a Christmas gift, and something I will always have with me to remind me of her."

Paul came to the house. "Scott," he called, "are you coming? We're supposed to be cleaning out the barn, and then Roy wants to split some more fence posts."

Winking, June said, "We're on for Friday night, right."

"Right," Scott whispered. Grinning broadly, he left to join his father.

June called family and the many neighbors Paul had met during their stay. The 'word' was 'surprise party'. Kathy convinced her to have the party at her place so decorations could be put up with Paul none the wiser.

%%%

Scott stood in the Dorans' living room looking at the crepe paper strung across the living room. Dad thinks we're all eating here tonight, he thought. Roy is keeping him busy until then. If he saw the decorations I wonder if he'd ask me why Cal and Kathy have changed their living room. Dad's only experience with decorations and gift giving was at Grandma's last Christmas.

He walked into the kitchen and stood watching Amy putting the finishing touches on the birthday cake. He forgot my birthday even though I dropped him some pretty subtle hints way in advance. At first I was hurt, but then I figured where he comes from they probably don't celebrate birthdays. I guess I should have told him, but now I'm glad I didn't. He grinned impishly at his thought. It's going to be fun seeing the expression on his face. This will probably be the only chance I'll ever get to really surprise him, for once he understands something is important he never forgets. He chuckled. I wonder if I'll be like that someday.

Everyone was in place when Roy brought Paul over to the Dorans'. Scott had the camera ready to make another candid memory.

When Paul walked in the front door, everyone stood up and yelled, 'surprise'. Looking around the room his eyes got as large as saucers, and then closed, momentarily blinded as the flash went off in his face. When the bright white spot finally disappeared, he realized he was the center of everyone's attention. A rousing, off tune, round of Happy Birthday followed. Though unsure of the basis for the occasion, he responded graciously by shaking hands and accepting hugs from those who offered.

Scott saw the semi-hidden look of confusion on his father's face and took him aside a brief moment. "We're celebrating your birthday ... actually his birthday," he whispered, poking his father in the side with one finger. "Roy saw it on your driver's license. A party makes it official."

Scott watched his father play his part in the manner of a true acting professional. Soon everyone enjoyed a buffet dinner June and Kathy had prepared. An hour later, Scott subtly guided his father through blowing out the birthday candles and cutting the decorated cake into pieces for everyone. The assembled friends urged Paul to begin opening several presents and cards others had brought even though all attending had been told presents were not necessary.

Scott's pocketknife was a big hit with his father and Paul proceeded to return the one Roy had loaned him, with a gracious, "Thank you for letting me use your pocketknife. Now my son has given me one."

Roy turned to Scott and handed it to him. "Your own pocketknife is a necessary addition to every man's wardrobe, Scott. This one is for your birthday."

"But this isn't my birthday," Scott confessed.

"Well, then it's for your last birthday," Roy returned.

Scott accepted the gift with a big smile and a 'Thank you' as everybody happily encouraged Paul to unwrap more presents. The next gift was a flint fire starter for camping from Amy and Sandy. Paul read the directions and knew he would have little or no need for such a device, but graciously thanked the beaming givers.

A welcome and needed gift was a new blue stripe shirt Kathy had made to replace the one she noticed rapidly wearing thin during haying. "Thank you, Kathy. I can certainly use this."

"It should fit," Kathy volunteered. "Scott let me use one of your shirts as a pattern. I hope you like the colors. I decided on the blue because it looks good on you."

"It's just right," he replied, seeing a broad grin coming from his son. He started unwrapping a gift from Roy and June. As Kathy took the wrapping paper away, he looked at the item and frowned curiously. It is cylindrical, about 21 inches long and three inches in diameter, he calculated. I can see it is rolled tightly. He tried unrolling it. It resists, he thought. What is it? He set it on the table, looked around the room at looks of anticipation. I think everyone else must know what it is, he confirmed. I wonder if Scott does. Hoping for a hint he glanced at Scott, but saw only a shrug in return. I think it is time to move on, he decided. He looked at Roy and June and smiled. "Thank you both."

He picked up another gift, but could not keep from looking back at the strange object nor stifle the puzzled expression on his face. Everyone joined June in laughing at his expression. Paul recognized his attempt at deception had been discovered and the logical question followed: "What is it?"

Roy, quite enjoying Paul's look of confusion, asked. "Want to make a guess?"

Raising his eyebrows, Paul replied. "I can't even begin to guess."

"See the valve on the end, Paul. Turn it," June offered.

Paul looked at the ends then found a piece of metal sticking out. He turned it and a low hissing emitted from the object. Instinctively, he leaned away and there was more laughter.

"Lay it on the floor," June instructed.

Joining the game, Paul laid it on the floor, expecting a loud bang that had followed a similar sound when Scott set off some of his fireworks on the Fourth of July. Instead of popping or exploding he watched the object slowly unroll and he realized it hissed because it was drawing in air. When it had grown to over one inch thick and over five feet long, he repeated, "What is it?"

Roy reached down and closed the valve. "Lay on it."

Paul kneeled down on the floor then climbed cautiously onto the strange object. He lay on his back, looking up at Roy awaiting further instructions. When none were immediately forthcoming, he asked, "Is something supposed to happen?"

"You still can't guess what it is?" Roy asked with a grin. When Paul continued to look directly at him, shaking his head negatively Roy smiled. "Can't you feel it," he hinted. "Or maybe a better question to ask is can you feel it?"

Paul turned and rubbed the surface and Scott cringed when there was more laughter. June finally came to his rescue. "When we were talking about camping out, you said something about your body not liking the hard ground. Well this will make sleeping on the ground a little more likeable."

Scott's eyes lit up with recognition. "It's a toy bed, Dad," he offered vigorously.

"A very modern air mattress," June grinned. "Cal, Kathy, Roy and I use them for camping and believe me, they are wonderful. It will provide you a cushion and insulation from the ground," she winked, "and the hard spots will disappear. Scott told me you can't carry too much and it doesn't take much room."

Paul began to grin for as he quit waiting for something to happen and paid closer attention, he realized he could not feel the hard floor. "Thank you both for being so thoughtful."

Paul continued to lie on the air mattress while he opened several funny cards that were passed around for everyone to enjoy. He sat up to open the last gifts, receiving a child's toy tractor and a rubber duck for the bathtub.

Paul finally got up from the floor and looked around the room at these friends. A feeling of warmth abounded and he smiled broadly. "Thanks to you, this has been a very special birthday for me."

The party broke up about ten and Paul and Scott walked home with the Fosters. Returning to the camper Scott got ready to crawl into bed. Paul, still on a roll, wasn't ready for sleep. "Scott, that was fun," he said.

"Yeah, I thought you'd like it."

"It was nice of Roy to give you the pocket knife."

"Yeah."

Paul's wide grin disappeared, replaced by one of growing concern. "I forgot your birthday and it is important."

"Forget it, Dad. I understood you didn't realize what it meant."

"You should have told me."

"I did hint, but I didn't think it was right to just come out and tell you to get me a birthday present."

"If you don't tell me, how will I ever know what's important to you? What other important days are there people celebrate that I've not known to remember?"

"Of course you already know about Christmas and the Fourth of July. There are other regular holidays like Easter, Thanksgiving and some famous people's birthdays. I guess married people celebrate anniversaries too."

"Anniversaries?"

"They're like counting birthdays, but they count the number of years they've been married. Kent and Eileen had been married for nineteen years. On their anniversary they usually took off for a weekend trip to celebrate."

"Your mother and I have no anniversary then because we are not married. Like with Dale and Ellen, being married is important to all of us?"

"I guess."

"Would you like it if I married your mother?"

"Sure, but first we have to find her, right?"

"We will." Paul reached over and turned off the light and there was a brief period of silence.

"Dad?"

"Yes, Scott."

Scott rolled over. "I love you. ... Goodnight." When there was only silence instead of a responding goodnight, Scott knew sleep was not yet coming.

"I'd still like to get you something for your last birthday," Paul finally offered.

"Dad, it's all right, really."

"No, it isn't all right, but is it all right with you if I keep thinking about the right thing?"

"Sure," Scott offered. "Now are you ready to go to sleep?"

Paul rolled over and laid his arm across his son. "Goodnight." Scott knew his father would not forget.

########################################

During the passing summer, Paul and Scott spoke of many things with their hosts and being good listeners, found Roy's first love was talking of past hunting trips. He liked to express the fun of seeing old friends that he hadn't seen the rest of the year and the camp camaraderie that always seemed present. When he realized he was talking hunting too much, he began talking fishing.

When Roy and June invited them to go fishing, Paul wanted to make sure he had his motion sickness under control and was carrying medicine on their first adventure out on one of the local lakes and then out in the salt water of Puget Sound.

Scott was also more relaxed at his father's constant questions, for he understood the Fosters seemed to enjoy answering them. He began asking many himself. They talked often about the growing of a variety of farm products and nature in all its aspects of checks and balances. Work on the farm continued, including building and machine repairs and they helped Roy plow one of the smaller pastures to get it ready for seeding in the fall. They split fence posts; repaired fences; cut and split a year's supply of firewood and stacked it neatly near the house; cut pasture grasses to encourage new growth and helped pick apples to press into apple cider. Work on the farm never seemed to be done.

Paul knew Scott enjoyed his association with Amy and her friends. Since Amy is aware we will have to move on soon, the opportunity to socialize is good for Scott, he considered. I have observed what I feel is a strange reaction from Sandy. Her greatest enjoyment seems to be kidding Amy with 'yuck' toward 'being in love'. Why should being in love be so distasteful to her? he thought. I will file this observation away for further study into the growth rituals I have already missed during my absence from Scott.

I do know that we feel very much at home again and this time we are continuing our search for Jenny in the only possibly productive way we can. I realized long ago, that rambling from one place to another is not likely to prove successful, but Fox does not give us any other option. We will stay here as long as we can, or until we have to give up hope of finding Mr. Johnson or Kelly Simpson. At this moment they are our only lead and must be investigated thoroughly.

July rolled into August as the warm days of summer continued. Paul helped Roy cut down some marketable trees that had been selected for thinning from the growing forestland the family owned. Roy taught Scott how to run the bulldozer and he practiced by grading some of the riding trails through the woods. With practice behind him, Roy called Scott and the bulldozer to pull the logs out of the woods to an area where they could be loaded on the truck. Paul delivered them to a local sawmill to be cut into lumber for a new building Roy planned to build the coming winter.

Projects needing doing were always available, but Roy planned it so that he, June and Scott could often do the routine work, leaving Paul free to seek better paying jobs around the area. Paul sold a couple of farm life picture essays to a mainland newspaper under the Foster name. Scott earned money for his work on the farm and felt good he could contribute to the finances. Paul managed to put most of the money received aside for their days of need.

With schools to be starting up soon, Cal began arranging lecture work for Paul and Scott in other schools. The fees were not large, but they welcomed the income and enjoyed teaching as a team.

When around the farm, they took every opportunity to ride, either together, or with family members. Most free time, however, they spent on the road searching for the elusive Mr. Johnson and Kelly Simpson.

Leaving a small town close to the Canadian border early one morning, they arrived home just after two. Paul backed the pickup into the shed. Checking the house they found no one home and walked over toward the barn. June was standing alongside a large van and they could hear a strange voice talking to someone on a static dominated two-way radio. The horror of George Fox flashed through Paul's mind and he instinctively turned, ready to run. June, seeing them coming, motioned them over. As Paul and Scott cautiously moved closer, a man got out of the van. He had on a long white coat and Paul relaxed when the smell of his clothes reminded him of the time spent in the hospital. Obviously this was not one of Fox's men.

June gave each a welcome back hug. "Paul ... Scott," she turned to the visitor, "I'd like you to meet Tom Dodge. Tom, I'd like to introduce our good friends and helpmates, Paul Forrester and his son, Scott. Tom is our veterinarian and until he got another call from his office, we were in the process of vaccinating the calves."

Paul extended his hand and they shook. He looked back at June. "Do you need any help?"

"We can always use help," she confirmed. "You help me with the catching and Scott, you go around to the corral and help Roy run them in." Scott signifying his understanding, headed around to the back of the barn where he heard Roy verbally accosting an unruly animal.

"Catching?" Paul questioned as they followed the vet to the side of the barn opposite where they had loaded the hay.

June chuckled, "I'm sorry, but you both seem to be familiar with almost everything on the farm now. I just assumed you knew what the squeeze was for."

June could see Paul was about to ask the obvious question and beat him to it. She pointed to a heavy steel apparatus forming part of an adjacent corral fence. "This is a squeeze chute."

I have often puzzled over this series of fences and gates, and this device made of tubular steel with many levers, Paul thought, but a graceful opportunity to ask about it did not arise. Now I see one of the calves is within its framework. He shuddered. It seems to have its head stuck between the two heavy metal uprights. June pulled down on a long lever and he saw the animal pinioned as the long sides of the apparatus came tight against its sides. It is struggling to get free, but is totally unable to move. His thoughts flashed back to the hooded falcon he had seen at the bird recovery farm. Appalled, he remembered the dream he had afterward in which he felt the bird's fright. The veterinarian moved over and gave it a general physical examination then two injections, one in the neck and one in the hip. Paul continued to stare. When he felt something take a hold of his arm, he turned in alarm until he saw June.

Holding Paul's arm, June urged him to the front of the device, describing what was happening. "Roy and Scott will drive another animal down this narrow lane and into the squeeze," she related. "It will push its head between the two front poles, trip the lock and be held by the neck. Just as soon as the head is secure, you pull down on the lever like I just did. That secures it. I'll weigh it, and then the vet can do a health exam and give the necessary shots." She looked over at the vet and saw him nod to continue. "Okay, we're through with this one, Paul. I'll release the head and you release the squeeze. Do you understand?"

"No," he replied, frowning deeply, again unable to take his eyes off the frightened animal.

June laughed as she pushed a bar near the animal's head. The gate opened, releasing the animal's head. She took Paul's hand and placed it on the long lever that had closed the apparatus just a couple minutes earlier. "Next time you release it ... like this." She demonstrated by pulling down on a short lever. "Now push what you're holding, up. It's a two handed operation."

Paul pushed and the side of the apparatus opened smoothly, releasing the calf down a lane and into the adjacent corral. Calling excitedly, it ran across the corral and stopped with several others. June handed Paul a rope. "Pull," she said. Paul pulled and the heavy open side closed with a decisive click.

I don't think Paul is really thrilled with this job, she thought, but he might as well get some more experience. "We've got quite a few to do yet," she announced, "so this will be another of those on the job training things. Just watch, listen, and go with the flow." The vet signified he was ready and she yelled. "Next." Paul heard Scott whooping and the snapping of a small whip. Soon another calf charged down the narrow lane.

"It's a heifer," Roy announced.

The frightened animal entered the apparatus and as it rushed forward looking for any exit it pushed its head between the heavy steel head gate. There was a click as the uprights locked down on either side of the neck. Instinctively it pulled back. "Now pull down on the lever, Paul," June reminded.

Paul pulled and the lever pinioning the young animal within the apparatus. Like the last, it was totally helpless, though it continued to struggle with no chance of escape. June balanced the scale and wrote down the weight and the veterinarian took over.

A moment later Paul heard the veterinarian give a painful yell. When he looked he saw the animal had caught part of the man's hand between its neck and the metal bar that held its head. Paul saw the veterinarian pull back a bloody finger. An unhappy expression covered his face as he vigorously shook his hand.

The vet noticed Paul's look of concern. "It's all right," he offered. "Kicks, bangs, bruises and broken or smashed fingers are the occupational hazards that go along with deciding to be a large animal vet." He grinned, preparing the next injections as though nothing had happened.

Paul looked back at the struggling animal and couldn't keep from laying his hand on its back to reassure it all would be well. A brief moment passed and the animal stood quietly. The vet completed the examination, gave three shots and after putting a tattoo and a metal tag into one ear, ordered its release. June released the head and Paul released the sides. The animal walked quietly out into the corral and turned around, looking at them. The entire procedure had taken less than four minutes.

Flexing his sore hand, the veterinarian remarked, "Man, after a bad start that was sure an easy one."

"Next," June called and shortly another animal rushed down the lane. This time Paul did not wait to reassure the animal. When released it joined the prior, standing and watching. By the fourth June was watching Paul more than the animals or the vet. He is relaxing the calves as he did Anne when she had trouble calving. She glanced at the vet. Tom is too busy while the animal is standing quietly, to notice. June, continuing watching in awe, said nothing.

Within the hour the last calf came into the squeeze and Roy and Scott followed it up the lane to watch. When it joined the others, they let themselves out through one of the gates to join the chute crew. "Boy was that quick!" Roy announced. "What a team we've got."

While Scott walked over to join his father, Roy and June followed the vet back to the van. They didn't talk long, for having gained some time on a schedule that always seemed to run late, he was anxious to get on to his next appointment. While Roy and June walked back, June told Roy what she had observed. Roy laughed, offering his hand for a shake. "Paul, are you sure you can't teach us how to do that?"

"Do what?" Paul asked.

"June said she saw you calming the calves."

"I am able, but I don't think it's something I can teach you, Roy. It seemed needlessly cruel to leave them helpless and so afraid."

"I guess if you've sensitive and have never seen cattle man-handled like this. It might seem cruel, but cattle are actually pretty durable. One thing I want to say is this method is so much better than the way we used to do it. We roped them from a horse, threw them to the ground and tied them up completely. Even then there was a good possibility of injuries both to them and us. With the squeeze they're immobilized completely. It's all over in a few minutes and definitely less stressful. They can't hurt themselves and it minimizes injuries to the handlers, though I did see Tom wrapping up a finger at the truck. Last year he got caught in the arm by a horn."

"Isn't there any other way?" Paul asked with compassion.

"Not to date, I'm afraid since we don't share your talents. Short of knocking them all out with drugs, which is not economical in either time or money, this is the best we have. It's the law that all female cattle must be vaccinated to control brucellosis, a serious and contagious disease of both man and beast. As basic health care each calf also receives a five-way disease prevention vaccine and a trace mineral supplement. We do our best to take good care of our animal's health needs."

June laughed. "Maybe you don't remember, but I'll bet your mother hauled you off to the doctor when you were little. We all had to get our shots, didn't we? Well, I would be willing to bet you were afraid too."

Paul cocked his head slightly toward one side and looked at his son. Scott is shaking his head. He remembers shots and still has to get some every time he enters a new school. Covering, Paul answered: "Yes, I guess as a child I was entitled to be afraid."

"Usually the first time we run them through the squeeze they're a bit rambunctious," Roy offered. "After a couple more times, for one thing or another, they take it in stride." Hearing a chorus of anxious mooing, he looked back toward the pasture. "Now, may I suggest we get these abused babies back to their moms?" Roy strode off to open the gate back into the pasture. Soon they urged the calves through the opening. Reunited into pairs, each cow led her offspring away and both indulged in a calming period of nursing health care. A few minutes later Paul glanced at them and, nursing over, the calves gathered in a bunch and started kicking up their heels. There doesn't seem to be any lasting trauma. The herd started for the open pasture with tails high and kicking their heels. Roy, observing Paul's continuing concern, suggested they saddle the horses. The next two hours were shared in recreation.

########################################

One week melted into the next and Paul and Scott were returning home from one of their longest periods away from the farm. Encouraged when one of the Johnson's they spoke to remembered another who had lived briefly in her area, they moved north across the United States border into Canada. The one soon became more possibilities and they spent several long exhausting days driving from one disappointment to another. Finally, like all the others, they came to a dead end. Despondent, Scott had been extremely quiet all the way home. Paul placed a hand on Scott's knee as he drove down the driveway. "We'll find them," he said.

Roy came out to greet them as Paul backed the pickup into the shed. "Boy, am I glad to see you guys back. June has had a hitch in her get-along the past few days and we really need a couple of extra hands."

Paul looked at Roy, bewilderment on his face. I understand the Fosters like to use sayings not familiar to others, he thought. I have found some require a great deal of thought to figure out and with some I have to ask. I felt uneasy until I discovered it was a game; one, Roy in particular, enjoys playing not only with me. He enjoys being coerced into explaining, and expects questions from most everybody. I just decided to play my part and have many useful expressions filed away for future use in the blending in game. Just before our last departure from the farm, Roy used an expression for me to puzzle over: 'What's time to a hog'? Though I quickly figured him to mean, an animal doesn't need to keep track of time, I asked anyway. I guess I like seeing a pleased look appear on his face. June also uses many curious expressions. The answer to the last one she used on me, I experienced almost immediately. She said, 'If you don't use your head, you'll have to use your feet'. I forgot to pick up the camera when I left the house for the barn and had to walk all the way home again.

I noticed Scott do something similar more than once, so I tried it out on him. He acted like he knew what it meant. The second time I used the saying on him he reacted somewhat adversely to having what he forgot brought to his attention in addition to having to walk all the way home for it. These sayings are puzzling, but unlike acronyms, with study they can be figured out. Whoops, I think I've been daydreaming within the operation of Paul Forrester's human mind again. I often find myself doing so. I must return to the conversation and ask the question Roy seeks. "What is 'a hitch in her get-along'?" Expecting the usual chuckle to accompany an explanation, I see no look of satisfaction on his face this time.

"She did in her back the other day digging in the yard. She has to take it easy for another week. The garden needs weeding and several things need to be harvested and put up."

"We'll be glad to help," Scott volunteered, beating his father to the offer for once. "Just tell us what we need to do." They walked into the house to find June sitting in a chair in the living room.

Paul walked over to her, a look of grave concern on his face. "What seems to be the trouble?"

"It's just the arthritis acting up again," she replied as she looked up at him sheepishly, "It's the payment extracted for the indiscretions of one's youth. I should have known better than to dig in the garden so long. Using a shovel just irritates it." She got up and it was obvious she was experiencing a great amount of discomfort. "I'll be all right in a few days, but right now things are getting behind. Roy has been doing some dozing work and Kathy has the girls at camp and herself committed as a camp counselor this coming week. Roy said he'd have you two spend your time around the house."

"Just tell us what needs to be done," Paul offered.

"Berries need to be picked and the excess frozen. Peas, carrots, cauliflower and beets need harvesting and freezing. The peaches need to be canned. More apples need to be picked for cider and we were getting ready to slaughter some lambs."

Scott looked surprised. "You mean you do all that too?"

She smiled at him. "These are just normal chores, Scott. This time of the summer is always busy." She managed to get to her feet and started walking out to the kitchen. "I can help, but I just can't do any lifting, bending or long periods of standing right now."

Both Paul and Scott cringed at the stiff and painful way she moved. It was very different from the June they had seen days earlier. Paul saw Scott looking at him and his expression needed no words. I cannot do what I know Scott wants, Paul confirmed. I will discuss my reasons at our first opportunity. He looked back at June. "We'll get started on the chores right away."

The rest of the afternoon June supervised while they helped to put up the foodstuffs in most serious need of harvest. There was promise of many days of similar activity, as well as weeding and maintenance of the large garden plot and fruit orchard near the house.

Scott knew his father was aware of June's pain. By day's end he still had made no move to help her. As they walked into the camper, he had to know why. "Dad, why didn't you help June?"

"We have been helping her," Paul returned.

"I mean with her back. Can't you fix it?"

"I could, but I can't."

Scott's facial expression and voice reflected his compassion, "But she's hurting. How can you just look the other way?"

"Because she knows why she's hurting, Scott. She worked too long in the garden. She also knows it will heal if she rests and takes care of it."

"But you could take care of it in just a matter of minutes like you did for Tony Billingsley."

"I know that must confuse you, Scott. It even confuses me when I do decide to intervene as I did with Tony. I wonder if I'm doing the right thing for us."

"For us?"

"What if Tony has told a lot of people what happened that day? There's a good chance Fox might find out what direction we had gone and we could be in danger again. My first responsibility is to you, and to keep us away from George Fox so you might have a chance to grow up."

"I understand that, but June wouldn't tell anyone."

"I know that too, but you must remember, I have access to the power to do many things to help people and your world. Sometime in the future, so will you. Still we can't go around fixing everybody who has something wrong. What is wrong with June is the result of years of living and the normal wear that comes to all living things. People must carry on with living in spite of their problems."

"But she's our friend."

"That's where I run into a real problem because I desperately want to help," Paul said sadly, "but for us I must think ahead to the time the government does finally accept us. Though we might have employment for the rest of our lives if word got around of such ability, we would soon become too valuable to allow to remain free. Even if free, we would be considered different. I don't want that and I think you would tire of it also. The other alternative is to start selecting. Who do I choose to help and who not to? Do we hold a drawing, perhaps exchanging favors, or perform only for friends?"

"Of course not," Scott frowned. He looked contemplatively at his father, trying to think of any good reason to encourage him to bend his rule. His eyes narrowed and his lower lip twitched. "Then why did you decide help Mr. Billingsley?"

"Because Tony would have died as a result of a problem not of his own making. His failing heart was a complication of what was simply an accident. It was not a natural progression of life. With that knowledge I couldn't just walk away. I was there and I felt compelled to help because there was no one else. Still the gesture might have caused problems for us."

"What do you mean?"

"I never intended to tell the Taylors. The more people who know, the better the chance the wrong people will find out about us. Having George Fox after us all the time is no fun, but from stories I read about in your newspapers, there are many others I would desire even less. It's apparent to me that Fox and his Federal Security Agency are keeping us a secret. That is the way I want it to remain."

"Why did you decide to tell Dale and Ellen?" Scott questioned curiously.

"It was like you told me when I was going to leave Katherine Bradford without an explanation. I had to ask Ellen not to tell anyone about what we did. It wasn't fair to leave without explaining. She and Dale trusted us. They gave their friendship without question and put themselves in jeopardy when they helped us. I felt I owed them the truth to allow them to make an informed decision. If the truth had made them fearful and they decided against us, they could have called the authorities and tried to help themselves."

Paul noticed his son seemed satisfied with his reasoning and he sighed, and retreated into his own thoughts. When I touched Tony I sensed the heart close to failure. I did put us in jeopardy by intervening. If I could turn back time, I might have chosen differently. I might have simply alleviated his pain by allowing him to sleep until help arrived. And what about Stella? Was I right allowing her spirit to return to the cosmos? When should I, and when shouldn't I, interfere in the natural processes here? I'm the stranger and I have so much to learn yet of living as a human. And through this body, making such choices causes emotional pain to my own being. He heaved a heavy sigh. What's past is past and can't be changed. As Scott said, now it's all water under the bridge.

Scott watched his father and knew he was contemplating about something again. I know Dad's thoughts on things have to be much deeper than I can ever begin to imagine. Long ago I learned to remain quiet and wait until his meditation ended, but now I see distress on his face. I think I'll interrupt. "What are you thinking about Dad?"

With almost a startled expression, Paul looked at his son. "I was just thinking about Stella."

The distressed look has disappeared, Scott confirmed with satisfaction. "Why are you thinking about her?"

"I was wondering, since we were talking about helping Tony, why you didn't ask me why I let Stella die. Didn't it bother you?"

"It still bothers me," Scott replied with deepening concern. "I didn't want Stella to die."

"Then why didn't you ask me about it?" Paul questioned, looking directly into Scott's eyes.

"I thought you had already explained it. I thought I probably didn't understand."

"But you didn't ask any more questions," Paul returned. "Anytime you don't understand, please give me a chance to try to explain."

"I wanted to, but I know you're smarter than I am."

"That has nothing to do with it and you know it," his father replied with concern. "I ask you when I don't understand about being human. How do you ever expect to understand the part of you that is me, if you won't ask?"

Paul saw tears collected in the corners of Scott's eyes as he lowered his head. Paul put his hand under his son's chin, lifting it until their eyes met. I know the moisture I see in Scott's eyes is for Stella. She is probably the only grandmother Scott will ever know and like mothers and friends, grandmothers are also important. I made a false assumption that he understood what I was trying to say to him the other time. "I will try explaining again, Scott. Stella was sick and at the end of her 'natural' life. Throughout the universe, death comes to all things and is just as much a part of being as is the moment of creation. I felt I would have been interfering in the natural order of things to prolong it by interceding. Do you understand?"

"I think I understand now, and thanks for taking the time to bring it up. You're telling me it was time for Grandma's life to end."

"Yes," Paul smiled fondly at his son, "but there was much more. She had met her grandson, forgiven her son and was at peace with herself." He smiled at his son. "Stella accepted the end of her life with the satisfaction that an old wrong had been righted and a generation was here for continuation. That understanding made her passing easier." I too remember the last moments I spent with the mother of this physical body, he thought. Like now, tears of sadness formed in my eyes as I stood at her bedside. The first tears I ever saw appeared in Jenny's eyes from the grief she felt remembering her husband. I realize now it was tears of loss I saw when the ship came and she had to say good-bye to me. When Scott lost hope of finding his mother at Spirit Lake, tears of disappointment appeared in his eyes before he ran away from me. Still the tears I saw in Scott's eyes when I returned from Mexico were not sad tears, but tears of happiness. I am still surprised when they come, he thought, wiping some from his eyes. I believe I still only partly understand human emotions.

Scott looked reflectively at his father's faraway look. When he saw he had returned, he said, "The thing I really don't understand is why everything has to die."

"Death is a physical reality that follows life," Paul offered softly. "A change of form that is constant everywhere. The old die to make room for the young to follow, be it a tree; wild animal; star system; a particle of matter or a grandmother. We don't have to understand, but we must accept it."

%%%

Paul and Scott continued to help June for the next week. Neither would ever again take for granted the effort going into the foodstuffs they found in the camper each time they left to resume their search. Through Cal's efforts the lecture work continued to increase as word of the quality, availability and a reputation of being able to incite student interest in science spread from the alternative schools to teachers involved in the regular summer school programs. Soon appointments required scheduling for Paul accepted all invitations graciously unless it interfered with their farm obligation to Roy and June. Financial ends were in balance again. In addition, the jobs took them to outlying areas where they could continue to ask questions about Kelly Simpson and her brother.

It was Friday afternoon. Cal had scheduled a lecture for Saturday morning and Paul had made appointments with two Johnson's for early in the evening and several others over the next few days. Scott was late returning from horseback riding with Amy, and Paul drove over to the Doran's to wait. He found Kathy busy at the kitchen counter peeling apples. "What are you making?" he asked.

"Some applesauce to can for winter," she replied with a smile.

"Can I help you peel apples while I wait for Scott?" he offered, returning her smile.

"You don't have to do that Paul. Scott and Amy will be back soon and you'll want to get going."

"I don't mind," he offered, "I would be happy to help."

Returning his smile with a broadening grin, she handed him a paring knife. "I certainly can't turn down a willing helper."

Paul started peeling apples while Kathy quartered and cored. "Amy and Sandy are very nice girls, Kathy," he said. "You are a very good mother."

"Thank you, Paul, I appreciate the compliment. For the past twelve years I have worked hard at being a mother."

Paul thought for a brief moment, calculated, and then frowned. "But Amy is fifteen?"

"Hasn't anyone ever told you Amy is my step-daughter?"

"Step-daughter"?

Kathy smiled at his question. "Amy is Cal's daughter by a prior marriage."

"Oh," Paul replied with a broad grin, "you mean like June is to you."

"Yes," Kathy returned. "Haven't you ever noticed Amy's skin color is much darker than either Cal's or mine?"

"I noticed, but never thought much about it," Paul offered.

"You're truly color blind and that's beautiful, Paul," Kathy laughed.

"Color blind?"

"You look at everybody the same."

"Aren't they?" Paul questioned.

"We are," Kathy added, "but some people don't always see it that way."

Paul smiled. "When I first met Amy, "she reminded me of a young woman I met while in Mexico."

"Amy's mother was from Mexico," Kathy acknowledged. "Amy was only three years old when Cal and I got married. I don't think of her as a step-daughter any longer. She's my daughter."

"I have met others with this same family situation and it seems to work well." Remembering Dale's story about the problems he experienced with Ted's mother, Paul asked, "Do you know where her mother is now?"

"She died when Amy was little."

"I feel sorrow for Amy," Paul offered sincerely. He thought of Jenny and hoped they would be able to find her safe and well.

"I understand her mother was ill for a long time," Kathy offered. "I don't think Amy even remembers her."

"How did you meet Cal?"

Kathy smiled broadly. "We met during summer quarter at the university. Cal had been teaching for a couple years and had to bring his certificate current. I was finishing a couple courses to obtain my Bachelor's Degree in education and we shared a class."

"Bachelor's degree?" Paul asked, his eyebrows rising.

Kathy looked at him curiously, I know from the many times we've talked this summer, Paul must be well educated. Now he's questioning something that should be recognizable to any college bound high school student. I have often noticed such odd statements and questions since he and Scott came to the farm, but like everybody else around here, I'll shrug it off and just indulge him. "A bachelor's degree is what they call the four year degree necessary to graduate."

Paul's eyebrows shot upward. "You're a college graduate?"

"I have a teaching certificate," she replied, "but I've never taught other than as a student teacher. Cal and I got married before the end of summer quarter and I soon I got pregnant with Sandy. No school district would hire me so I stayed home and took on being a mother. I planned to find a teaching job after the baby was born. When the time came to make a decision about going to work, Amy was having some problems with some other children. They made fun of her because she was different. I liked mothering and figured she and Sandy could use the support of a full time mother. Cal was making enough for us to live on, so I stayed home. Since then I made mothering my full-time profession."

"Haven't you ever wanted to teach after putting so much time into getting an education?" Paul asked.

"I've often thought about it," she reminisced, "but I've always been too busy with the girls and their activities, I didn't have the time to do both jobs well." Kathy smiled. "Now, at my age, I think it would be a waste of time to attempt to resume that direction in my life. Besides, what could I possibly have to offer today's kids?"

"Anything you do to help others is not a waste of time," Paul returned. "One learns many important things just living day to day. You could pass on the knowledge you've gained to those who need it."

Kathy thought momentarily. "I would have to go back to school again, and I don't know if I can do it anymore."

"If you did it once, you can do it again," Paul replied. "Learning is a continuing process. You should think about it."

Kathy shook her head negatively. "I think the money could be better spent sending the girls to college."

"Like Cal, you have a wonderful way with children, Kathy, and that is a valuable asset to both you and the girls, but it could be a valuable asset to many other young people."

Kathy saw Paul finish peeling another apple and set it ready for her. "You're a fast peeler, Paul. I already have another kettle full. Thank you." Her head turned toward the window as she heard the horses. "I think they're back." She walked him to the door. "I guess I'll see you when you get back."

"Roy said he didn't need us for anything until the end of next week, so after tomorrow's lecture we're going to search further to the east." Kathy put her arms around him and laid her cheek next to his.

Paul felt her warm wishes. Wrapping his arms around her, he returned them. Thank you, he thought as he walked out the door to greet his son.

Scott spotted the camper parked near the Doran's and saw his father at the door. "Are we ready to go?" He called from the hitching rail.

"I've been waiting for some time already. Get Burr put away. We can catch the next ferry."

"Hi, Mr. Forrester," Amy called in dismay as she tied Monty. "I'm sorry we're so late. It was all my fault. I wanted to try a new trail and got us lost." Amy turned to Scott and gave him a good-bye hug. "You better go. Don't worry about Burr, I'll put him away."

"Thanks," Scott acknowledged, following his father to the pickup and another week of searching.

########################################

Returning Thursday evening, Paul and Scott walked into the house to Roy's warm grin. Paul saw June sitting in a chair. "How is your back?" he asked.

"It improved a lot this week," she replied. "Everything will be fine, Paul."

"I'm glad to hear that," he returned. "Is there anything you want us to do to help you?"

"Roy is done with his job and with the canning rush coming to a close things will stay pretty much under control from now on. Thank you anyway."

Roy walked over to the telephone. "I took a message for you," he offered. "It was another call about your lecture. It came in on Monday. Uh," he stumbled uncertainly looking at a piece of paper under the clip next to the telephone, "I think he said his name was Bilsey. He's the program director of a summer science program up the island. He just heard about your lecture. Anyway, tomorrow is the last day and he asked if you'd give your presentation. I told him I didn't expect you back until sometime today, but since it's so close to home for once, I told him you'd probably be available. I've got his number and I told him you'd call tonight about the time and place"

"We have been pretty busy with schools lately, Roy," Paul offered. "We don't want it to interfere with work around here. We do owe you for the room and board."

"Don't worry about it," June said. "You don't know how much we appreciate having you and Scott around. Just having you here to talk to is compensation enough. It has been good for Kathy and the family too. The other day, something you said made her take a long hard look at herself and where she's going. She is a wonderful mother, but has so much more to give than just being at home now. She finally made up her mind to go back to school. I think she has been putting if off, afraid to face the fact the girls are growing up and don't require her full time any longer. They actually need to assume more responsibility at home. She wants to start with substitute teaching. I think it would be perfect for her."

"I didn't do anything except tell her she has a great deal to offer young people. It's the truth."

June smiled at him. "I guess she saw the reality in what you told her. She's in town today to sign up for some of the courses she'll need to update her certificate."

"I think she was just ready to make a change in her life and would have done so anyway," Paul replied.

"You're too modest," June laughed. "I think Kathy was afraid of trying to go back to school. I believe one is never too old to learn."

"You're right," Paul confirmed, "learning is a process that goes on as long as life continues."

"My Kathy is a very conscientious and caring person," Roy offered. "She will do well in whatever she takes on and she'll get a lot more practice at decision making when she gets into the classroom routine again."

Roy removed a scratchy note from the note pad and handed it to Paul. "Right now, before I forget it Paul, here's Bilsey's number. You'd better give him a call."

%%%

As arranged, Friday morning Paul and Scott were waiting for Mr. Bilsey at the front door to the high school administration building. As a man came closer, they both recognized him as the man whose father they had helped when the Taylors rescued them from Fox. I wonder, he pondered apprehensively, how much detail of our physical reconstruction Tony kept a secret from his son. Smiling, Paul offered his hand as the man walked over. "Mr. Billingsley, how nice to see you again."

Jim Billingsley looked strangely at his lecturers, and then recognition bloomed on his face. He took a card out of his pocket and glanced at it. "Mr. Paul Forrester?" he questioned with raised eyebrows. "... and Scott? You were with the woman who helped us earlier this summer." He grinned broadly. "Is she your wife?"

"No, just friends," Paul replied.

"No matter. I really did want to thank you for taking your time to help."

"Your father did thank us," Paul returned.

"But I didn't," Billingsley replied. "At the time, I guess I was so relieved when she told me Dad wasn't hurt I didn't even think about getting anyone's name."

"How is your father?" Paul asked.

"Couldn't be better. He's more active than I've seen him in years. He hikes with us all the time. Acts like his trick knee doesn't bother him anymore. It's amazing what getting some exercise can do."

The man's words allowed Paul to relax. If Tony didn't tell his son what happened, more than likely he told no one. "I'm sure it does," he replied confidently.

"Can I have your address?" Jim asked.

Scott responded nervously. "We live in a camper and move around a lot. We really have no regular address."

"Besides, no thanks are necessary," Paul added. "People should help each other."

"Yes, but it's just common courtesy to say thank-you when it's you someone goes out of their way to help."

"Under the circumstances, everybody understood," Paul returned.

"What about your lady friend? Would you give me her name?" When he received a puzzling look, Jim thought Paul might be reluctant to give out the woman's name.

Paul read a hesitancy to ask in Jim's voice and looked questioningly over at Scott for assistance. Scott returned with a puzzled look and a shrug of his shoulders. Paul looked back at Jim. "Is there any reason I shouldn't give you her name?"

"Sometimes people, single women in particular, don't like to have people give out such information," Jim replied humbly.

Paul pondered a long moment on the statement and a deep crease appeared in his forehead. "Her name is Ellen Taylor and she isn't single. If you want to thank her, don't you want her address and telephone number? I'm certain she wouldn't have any reason to ask me to keep it a secret from you. I'm sure she'd be happy to hear your father is well." Paul proceeded to recite the telephone number and the rural delivery address of Comptronics East.

"Whoa," Jim returned quickly. "I need to get something to write with." He reached into his shirt pocket for a pen. Paul repeated the information and Jim wrote it down on the card on which he had their names and placed it snugly into his billfold. With a broad smile, he offered his hand and they shook. "From what I've heard from others, I'm anxious to see your presentation." With a gesture of direction they proceeded toward the auditorium. "Shall we all go face the audience?"

The crowd was the largest they had lectured so far and it amazed Paul, for many in the audience were adults. After Jim gave a brief, glowing introduction, he returned to a seat in the front row. Paul saw him pick up a video camera. Paul and Scott presented another rousing hour-long lecture. An open question and answer session followed and an additional half hour turned into history. A line formed as bold and shy students, and then parents and teachers continued to ask questions. Paul also spoke to representatives of several other schools who wanted the lecture. The session could have lasted hours. Jim finally took the initiative to rescue the two and led them away. Paul graciously accepted a check for the two-hour fee and expenses.

I see Jim has a video camera, Paul thought. I do not want any photographs to appear in public so I must approach him. "Jim, were you taping us?"

"Yes," he replied openly.

"May I ask why?"

"I heard from some teachers who scheduled your lecture earlier, that your methods are different. I wanted a tape so I can study them further before school starts. They were right. Your techniques are years ahead of what they're giving in college now and your knowledge of this subject is amazing."

How observant of the man, Scott thought. Since getting used to Dad's ways, I finally realized he is always teaching in one-way or another. I'm also confident his methods must be years ahead.

Paul looked at Jim, his face reflecting concern. "Is that all you're going to use it for?"

"I hadn't planned on anything else, but I have to admit the adult/youth combination is innovative and could become a highly successful teaching tool." Jim frowned, realizing he might be violating some professional rights. "I guess I should have asked permission first. I'm sorry." He started to open the recorder. "I'll give you the tape."

"I have reasons for not wanting it circulated," Paul advised.

"I have no plans to use it publicly and will respect your wishes. May I have your permission to show my father and perhaps you might allow me to show my wife and some colleagues who couldn't make the lecture?"

Paul smiled at the care Jim was now expressing. "I didn't mean it that way, Jim, and I appreciate your kind words. By all means, feel free to show your friends and use it as a teaching tool. Take it to show your father." Paul smiled warmly. "Now we should get on our way." Paul and Scott turned to leave, but after taking a couple steps, Paul turned back. "Would you please say hello to your father for us. Would you tell him..." Paul paused momentarily while he formulated an appropriate message, "Tell him thanks for the confidence."

"Thanks?" Jim questioned.

"He'll understand." Observing a friendly smile and nod, Paul followed Scott back toward the pickup.

Jim Billingsley had more than one reason to be happy he had come prepared to tape the session. He could hardly wait to get home to run the tape of his adventure into the 'small world'. He walked in the front door to his wife's greeting and questions about the session. "The lecture was everything I've heard and more, Terri, and it was certainly educational. What a great climax to the science fair. More interesting though, was the lecturers. I still can't believe it. Paul Forrester and his son were the two with the woman who helped Dad the day he fell. I figured I'd never see any of them again. Her name's Ellen Taylor and I have her address and phone number over in East Wenatchee. I'm going to call Dad right now and tell him we'll pick him up tonight. We're going to see her. I'd really like the opportunity to thank her personally."

"Good idea. It's time for an end of summer vacation anyway," Terri replied. Still caught up in her husband's excitement, Terri had forgotten some news of her own. "Cynthia, my friend from art class who's a staff reporter for the local paper, called. She's on her way over. She wants to talk to you. I guess she has been covering the Science Fair program for the paper, and is she excited. She thinks your teacher team might make a good news story. She said there are probably many experts around whose knowledge is being wasted and she wants to contact them for an in-depth interview. Some publicity might encourage more of them to step forward and volunteer to give a variety of lectures. It could even develop into an integrated school program."

"You're absolutely right." Jim stated with conviction, "To find others who can instill student and parent interest, like these Forresters' did, we need to take advantage of all the publicity we can get. Right now I want you to look at the tape." Jim started the video.

Shortly the doorbell rang and Terri answered it. After greeting her enthusiastic friend, Cynthia Tuttle followed Terri into the living room. Jim stood and Terri made introductions, and then Cynthia sat in an offered easy chair.

"I was next in line at the lecture when you rushed the Forresters out, Jim," Cynthia offered. "I wanted to arrange for an interview. Can I ask you a few things?" She looked apologetic as she noticed the freeze frame on the television screen. "Please, don't let me interrupt your program."

"We're just watching Jim's tape of the lecture," Terri replied.

Awakened from his nap by the doorbell, Jim and Terri's five year old, Little Tony, was drawn to the activity. He raced into the living room and seeing a stranger sitting next to his mother, climbed into his father's lap. After keeping a wary eye on Cynthia for a few moments, he turned to watch the television show.

Jim thought about his promise to Paul Forrester to use his tape only for professional or personal use and reached for the remote. "I'll just turn it off. We can watch it later."

"No, please." Cynthia replied enthusiastically, "If you don't mind, I'd like to see it again. I can take some additional notes." Jim was aware the woman had been at the lecture and seeing no harm, rewound the tape and started it again.

The child, surprised at recognizing somebody other than his family on the television, climbed down from his father's lap and ran over to the screen. He waited briefly then pointed to a close-up. With a big grin he announced, "There's the doctor who fixed Grampa's leg."

Jim and Terri looked at him questioningly. "What do you mean, 'fixed' Grandpa's leg, Tony? Grandpa wasn't hurt."

Tony looked back at his parents. "Oops," he said. Stiffening noticeably, a look of guilt rapidly spread across his face. "Grampa told me not to tell."

Cynthia's reporter nose, smelling another possible story, turned on her tape recorder.

"What did grandpa not want you to tell, Tony?" Jim asked.

"It was our secret," the boy replied with determination.

Cynthia looked at Terri and whispered an offer of assistance. "Maybe a stranger asking the questions will get you off the hook."

Terri shrugged her shoulders. "Go ahead, but unofficial, understand. Whatever this is, it's the first we know of it."

Cynthia nodded then asked, "What did your grandpa want you to keep secret, Tony?"

Confused by a stranger asking questions, Tony looked to his mother and father for guidance. His face now reflecting pain and a growing remorse, he answered slowly. "But Grampa said the help from the doctor was our secret. Grampa promised we wouldn't tell."

Terri now saw a lesson for her son to learn in the issue. "Tony, you have to tell the truth. If this doctor helped Grandpa, shouldn't we all thank him for what he did?"

Tony thought briefly about his mother's question. "But Grampa promised."

He saw a stern look on his father's face and ran crying to his mother. When he reached out to her, she lifted him into her arms and pulled him close. "Tony," she repeated softly, stroking his back soothingly, "you must always tell the truth."

Tony clung tightly to his mother until his crying stopped. Sniffling, he began a child's eye, narrative. "After Daddy left, Grampa got awful sick. He just cried and wouldn't even talk to me like Daddy told him. Then the people came and the mommy tried to help him. Then the doctor looked at Grampa's leg and said he was going to die if it wasn't fixed right away..."

With her tape recorder for back up, Cynthia listened as Tony described in his child's way, a story with players and incidents far different than a father told his son one day in the mountains. Cynthia knew this was another possible story and discussed it with the family. Together, they finished watching the video.

Cynthia made some additional notes for her Science Fair report. After sharing coffee and cookies, she returned to her office. She walked in to see the editor. "Sir, I know we're right on the inclusion deadline for this week and so I'd like to delay my article on the Science Fair until next issue."

"Why?" he questioned critically. "It will be old news by next week, Ms. Tuttle."

"I only have today's lecture to type out yet, sir, but I want to write another article to go along with it. Today I saw a father and son team at work and I watched it again on video. They're very good. I understand they've been doing a lecture for a couple of months already and I also found out they take hardly any pay. I think it's time we give them some recognition for their efforts. I'd like to do an in-depth companion article on them. I think my article might encourage more citizen participation in the school curriculum."

"Do you have pictures?"

"The only pictures I got are rather long shots. I was running late this morning and by the time I got there it was a standing room only crowd."

"Do you think you might get hold of the video? We can get some pictures off it to go along with the story."

"I asked for it, but Jim Billingsley said he had given his word he wouldn't let it out ... some professional courtesy thing. The Billingsley's have left for the other side of the state for a few days to do some visiting, but if you don't want to wait on the Science Fair piece, I'll write it up. If you have any interest in the human interest angle, I'll like to hold it for some pictures when I do the personal interview."

"By all means, follow up on it," the man replied enthusiastically. "The Science Fair report can easily wait until next week."

Cynthia's face contorted contemplatively. "When I was at the lecture, there was something familiar about the man. I've seen him before. I just can't place him. The name's familiar too ...Paul Forrester."

The editor sat upright. "You said Paul Forrester?" He reached to a shelf of books behind his desk and pulled out a copy of In the Eye of the Storm and displayed the rear cover. "This Paul Forrester? Pulitzer Prize, ... Vietnam, Cambodia, Moscow?"

Cynthia's eyes lit up at instant recognition. "That's him. That's why he looked familiar."

"You, a reporter, didn't recognize Paul Forrester," the man said in astonishment.

Feeling slightly sullied, she replied. "I've seen some of his work in school, but never followed his career. I'm not into his kind of journalism. My interests have always been more into the human interest end of writing and I like to take the pictures myself."

"You're good at human interest, Ms. Tuttle.

She smiled appreciatively then frowned. "It can't possibly be the same Paul Forrester. Why would he be giving lectures on science and the space programs? ... And with a teenager? From what I understand of his chosen lifestyle kids can't be exactly his thing."

"Who knows what Forrester's thing is?" the editor's replied. "He's always been a rogue."

"It has to be a coincidence, sir, though it seems impossible the name and face could match. Maybe that's the reason this guy didn't want anybody else using the video. He's probably been mistaken for Forrester before."

"That's possible," the editor agreed. "It's also possible this might be the real one. I haven't seen much of Forrester's work lately. He dropped out of sight last year after that chopper went down with him during that crazy attempt to photograph Mt. Hawthorne's eruption."

Cynthia looked at the picture again. "It's either him or he has a twin."

"You're going to have to dig deep on this one, Ms. Tuttle. Where does he live?"

Billingsley wouldn't say, but somebody at school should be able to give me a lead on how to reach him. After all, Billingsley found him."

The editor grinned. "I'll leave the leg work up to you, but I'm going to assume the in-depth will be ready for next week." The editor thought for a moment. "I saved space this week for your report. Do you have anything else to put in your space?"

"I have another story," Cynthia offered. "Off-beat, but interesting. I stumbled into it by accident and I do have it on audio. It isn't transcribed."

"What about?"

"The imagination of a five year old," she paused, remembering the boy's strange story. "Or maybe not? It involves this Forrester though. If you're interested I'll play the tape. I think you'll agree it's a very strange interview. Do you have a player handy?"

%%%

The editor looked at Cynthia strangely as the tape finished. "Who would have planted such a story in the mind of a child?"

She returned his look shaking her head slowly. "I wouldn't venture a guess. Children at that age don't usually continue to lie when questioned about being caught in one. It surprised the parents as much as it did me."

"The grandfather?"

"Why ... and for what purpose?" Cynthia rebuffed. "And why would Forrester ask to keep it a secret?" She shrugged her shoulders. "What do you think?"

"Folks seem more into this spooky stuff now."

"I managed a release from the parents, but for the child's sake, they insisted on not being identified."

"You get something typed up in the next two hours that leaves the readers asking questions and waiting for next week's edition and we'll run it. To play it safe, though, don't use any names."

%%%

Awakening in the camper one morning far from home, Paul realized the search for Kelly Simpson's brother had taken a great deal more time than he ever imagined. They had been living on and off the farm for well over two months. After breakfast they would be returning to the farm for the last time. They had checked and rechecked every East Puget Sound phone directory from Seattle to the Canadian border. They checked Vital Statistics death records in four counties and even followed secondary leads into Canada. They had talked to or visited every Hayden, R, Ro, Ronald or Robert Johnson, and Kelly or K Simpson and followed up on all referrals. The search had come full circle. Sadly they had to agree it was time to hit the road again to continue searching for Jenny Hayden.

Arriving in the afternoon, Paul parked the pickup in the shed. They walked into the house to 'welcome home' from Roy and June. And a few minutes later Scott left to find Amy.

"The horses are out of hay, Paul. Can I get you to help me move some over from the barn?" Paul walked off with Roy. As they loaded the hay Paul advised Roy of their plan to move on the beginning of the week.

"June and I were talking last night. We were afraid this would be coming soon," Roy returned unhappily. "Can't you stay just a little while longer? We're taking off for the mountains with the horses within the next week or two. We started collecting the gear while you were gone and everybody agreed that you've earned a trip. We're going into one of the nicest places I know in the Cascade Mountains and I know you'll enjoy it."

"But we really should get going," Paul advised. "We need to continue our search."

"You just finished telling me you exhausted all your leads. Without one, what difference will another couple of weeks make?" Roy countered.

Paul smiled at Roy's perception. They continued to load and unload bales while Roy talked about the trip and what it would require.

End Part 1


	2. Part 2

########################################

George Fox sat at his desk in Washington. "I'm bored," he mumbled to himself. "These past two months in alien apprehension has been slow. So slow, in fact, I can best compare it to entrapment in the Washington transportation gridlock I face coming to and going from this desk each day.

"I've had Wylie monitoring every possible information gathering and analyzing source seeking anything possibly related to an alien presence at work. We've checked out anything weird or unexplainable, as well. Since we came back from the other Washington all leads seem to have dried up. I know the computer will automatically kick any requests regarding Paul Forrester my way, so here I sit, day after endless day, waiting for something that might not come at all."

He heaved a sigh, and then his mouth contorted to one side and he continued his mutterings. "I've been around headquarters so long, articles out of the more common supermarket publications are routinely appearing on my desk again; anything some office clown thinks is weird. I've become the office joke and I hate it. I also hate the confining nature of the office. I'd stay out in the field if it wasn't the computers are here. Far worse than the harassment, though, is the reality of this alien disappearing so completely again. It surely can't be up to anything good. It must be hunkered down again with some unsuspecting citizens."

He gazed over at the map on the wall. "...But where? I wish I could discover some pattern to Its movements. The only thing I know for sure is It's getting more elusive all the time."

He got up and walked to the window. "In addition to the harassment I'm getting from the office staff, Wylie has been getting on my nerves more than usual of late. He insists on pursuing the offered supermarket material and tries rationalizing an actual alien connection. Of course, he also has to share his usual cornucopia of irrational and illogical theories with me. My nerves are stretched to near the breaking point. If something doesn't show up soon, I might just get out of Washington and head out into the field alone. Anything has to be better than this."

########################################

Saturday evening, before Scott and Amy left for a teen dance, Roy called a family conference about the pending mountain trip. "First off, I have talked to number one son. Frank is definitely planning on the trip this year. Now, am I right, you are all going?" He received confirmation from all the family members. "And you, Paul?"

"Yes, we would love to go," Paul confirmed as he thought of the preparations already underway. The Fosters have gone out of their way to get equipment for us. They even agreed to let us use two of their heavy sleeping bags and some lightweight rainwear. Roy said hiking boots were a must and June helped us find some at a local thrift store. This trip sounds like fun and it's another new experience with camping that I'm really looking forward to.

"Okay," Roy confirmed. "June and I talked the other night and if everybody is going, it looks like we'll have to divide and go in two units, each for a week. The horses are shod and in good shape after having been ridden all summer, so we'll draw up groups. The first will leave this coming Saturday morning. June said she'll go with the first group and I'll go on both to wrangle the animals. Now what's everyone's pleasure?"

"Why can't we all go together?" Paul asked.

"Because the Forest Service allows no more than twelve in a party, Paul, and that includes the animals. We'll need all five horses so that leaves a maximum of seven people. We have nine already and Frank asked if it was alright to take his dog. That makes a total of fifteen, so we have to divide."

"I understand," Paul replied with a nod.

"I have to go the first trip," Kathy offered. "School is starting the middle of the following week and I don't want to start late this first quarter."

"That's three for the first week," Roy confirmed. "Frank said he prefers to go the second week so Scott ... Paul, you can round off the first."

"Doesn't Cal want to go with Kathy?" Paul inquired. "Scott and I could wait to go the second week."

Cal gave everyone an apologetic look. "I'm definitely on second. I have a Career Opportunities Week Seminar and camp-out at the Lakeside Youth Camp near Wenatchee that I'm obligated to chaperone. The school considers this seminar as part of our school curriculum. I'll be going over the mountains the night before to help with the set-up. I signed up Amy and Sandy for the program some time ago, so it's the second week for them too. The school is closed for annual maintenance the second week so I won't have to take any vacation time off. This seminar is why I originally suggested those two weeks for the trip. It will be okay even if the family isn't together. It will also give Kathy some time to get used to being away from the girls." Cal looked over at Scott. "This seminar might be good for you too. You're getting about the age when you should start thinking about what you want to do with your life. The program covers a great variety of careers and the opportunities available in each."

"It might be good for you, Scott," Paul replied with purpose, "but I'd rather have you with me." Scott didn't respond and Paul looked at him, and then at Amy.

"Why don't you let him decide for himself, Paul," Cal suggested with conviction. "Making decisions is a part of growing up."

Paul knew his son must make choices, but Scott had other considerations to keep in mind before making a decision to separate, even if it was only for a week. Paul sighed, "We'll talk about it."

"Good, but I do want to repeat, Paul, this seminar does have a great deal to offer Scott," Cal said honestly.

Paul considered the arrangements and had a question. "Roy, it does sound good since everybody would be able to ride."

"Not this everybody," Cal quickly stated. "In case you hadn't notice, I'm not a rider. I grew up in the city and never got into horses."

"Actually there are only four horses to ride," June volunteered. "The fifth will be packing groceries and gear. If Scott goes to the seminar somebody will be walking."

"Frank can have the horse," Cal offered. I'll be okay as long as I don't have to carry much more than a sandwich."

"It will all work out," Roy confirmed. "All those who want to ride will have a horse." Roy noticed Amy fidgeting. "Why don't you and Scott take a minute to discuss it, Paul? I think he and Amy need to take off very soon or miss their ride to the dance."

Paul followed Scott outside. "I'd rather we didn't separate, Scott."

"Why? I'd like to spend some more time with Amy and the seminar sounds like fun. Besides, we haven't seen or heard anything of Fox since East Wenatchee."

Paul sighed and looked at his growing son. "I guess I should leave it up to you, shouldn't I? You are fifteen."

"Since we're really going to be leaving after the trip, I'd really like to go to the seminar with Amy," Scott replied.

Paul studied his son's face. It's the same look I saw with Kelly Jordan, except this time I know Scott has accepted the reality that we are leaving when we get back. He took a deep breath and let it go. My son does need room to grow and growing includes the freedom to associate with, and form human attachments with those his age. Paul smiled. "I understand, Scott," Paul agreed, graciously. "I guess you don't always need your father around to protect you. But, I'm disappointed we won't be together. I think Cal might be right, you can gain a great deal from the seminar."

Amy and Scott left as soon as they returned inside. "Scott will go to the seminar," Paul announced, smiling appreciatively. "I know he wants to spend more time with Amy before we have to leave."

"I think he made the right decision," Roy said. "He is almost a man, you know. Don't you agree they make a nice couple?"

"Yes, Scott likes Amy a lot," Paul confessed with a grin, remembering his brief experiences with human sexual attractions.

"I know Amy feels the same way about him." Roy grinned. "I think his decision might have been a conspiracy. Since you said you might go on the trip, I know both Amy and Cal have been trying to talk him into the seminar. Maybe it's Cal's teacher side showing, but I really think he joined in for Amy. Kathy feels Scott has been good for Amy. I just wish we could get you to change your mind about staying permanently."

"We really can't, Roy. After the trip we have to go."

"You know that's not what we wanted to hear," Roy returned sincerely, "but if it's your decision, I guess we have to accept it."

They spent the rest of the evening together finalizing arrangements.

The days passed quickly and two days before departure, June announced at dinner, "Frank called this afternoon. He said something has come up again and he has to spend the next three weeks in New York."

That's a disappointment, Paul thought, I wished to meet Roy's eldest son. Everyone has spoken highly of him. Still I can understand how plans to be somewhere at a particular time can change suddenly.

On Thursday the Dorans came over and after dinner Roy reviewed the plans. "I have arrangements made with the neighbor to check the livestock until June, Kathy and Paul return. Cal, on Friday morning you can drive over to the seminar. You'll be busy and there's no reason for Amy, Sandy and Scott to spend a whole extra day over there as long as we're going to be close. There's not enough room in the truck for all of us, so I'll take Paul with me. June, you and Kathy can take Scott, Amy and Sandy over to the seminar Saturday morning. Cal, June will give you a list of supplies to pick up at the market for the second trip. Bring them with you to the trailhead Saturday and I'll take the second group in. When June and Kathy get back to the trailhead, we'll have lunch then hit the trail. Sound all right, everyone?"

########################################

George Fox was at home attempting to settle down after another degrading day of almost solitary confinement with Wylie. I should have gone to the gym this evening and worked out, he thought. The exercise would have done me good, but here I am getting ready to watch the debut of a new television series. I saw the movie some time ago and it interested me. Under normal circumstances I don't like science fiction. Maybe it's because my life seems surrounded by its reality. Still I find some science fiction gives me an idea of what others figure aliens might be up to here on Earth.

After less than twenty minutes he got up. "This is hopeless," he rebuffed as he firmly poked the off button. "Imagine insinuating such an alien creature could have a benevolent nature." He looked at his watch. It's already too late for the gym. It will be crowded by now. Besides I'd have to get dressed again. I really would like to relax a bit. Maybe there's something else of interest to watch. He picked up the television guidebook and searched through the program listings. As usual, nothing. Maybe I have something here I haven't read. He found a magazine and leafed through the articles. During the past couple of months I've gobbled up all the reading material that accumulated during the Eastern Washington fiasco. Now I'm really scraping the bottom of the barrel. I'm actually desperate enough to start reading articles in the television guide. He shook his head slowly. Incredible. Skimming the stories offered, he selected an article on TV criminal justice versus reality, agreeing only in part; then one on news gathering for network television, finding it likewise unstimulating.

He continued leafing through the remainder. I'm ready to give up on this diversion as well and pull out 'King Lear' for another reading. He turned the next page and found the TV critic of the week's review. "Hmm," he mumbled, "it's a review of the bomb I was just watching. Since the man is unusually caustic in most of his reviews, it might improve my mood." He read the review. "This critic and I do see eye to eye, at least on one point; the movie was okay, but the series is totally unrealistic. Better luck next time to the producers."

In his continued boredom his mind drifted to the alien and his desperate search then back to his almost once in a lifetime agreement with a critic. I did agree with him on his first point, but I think I just skim-read the last part of the review. I don't remember his closing comments. Yes, here it is:

.

'It is my considered opinion this series contains no new or refreshing material whatsoever and deserves the customary place in oblivion. I put it in about the same high excitement category as a documentary on the life cycle of the fruit fly. There just isn't enough action to keep a modern-day audience interested for more than ten uninterrupted minutes. A better subject for a science fiction series might be derived from a human-interest article my son found in a tabloid rag where a five year old related a healing miracle in some mountain wilderness by a doctor with a blue light.'

.

"The life cycle of a fruit fly?" Fox laughed. "What a strange thing for a critic to say about a show. Damn, I'm getting into the habit of talking to, and answering myself again," he chastised. "So what. At work I really don't know whom to confront to halt the annoying articles, so I try to avoid talking to everybody. I guess I need to hear a human voice and mine is as good as any." He chuckled. At least the person I'm talking to knows something more about aliens than the creators of that show."

"I guess I'll go down to the library for some new reading material. Even King Lear doesn't sound interesting right now. Wait a minute, there was something in that article...?" He thumbed through the magazine again. Finding the article he carefully read the words again. "A blue light. Yes, that's it. The article in the Seattle newspaper that drew my attention to Scott Hayden, mentioned the boy being bathed in a blue light. I also saw a blue light in Seattle when It escaped in the monorail." He took a deep breath and frowned deeply. "On a couple of other occasions the alien's presence or activities seemed to be linked to the appearance of blue lights." He shrugged his shoulders and frowned. "Of course healing with a blue light could be some new laser technology." He cocked his head to one side. "Then again, laser technology requires power. This happened in a mountain wilderness. I wonder where and when this incident occurred. I think it's worth the time and effort to check it out, particularly since I have nothing else of interest to do anyway. A call to the Guide's TV critic will provide the source."

A few calls later, his curiosity was aroused. "Very interesting," he mumbled. "The source reference is a small independent news service. I know I don't remember seeing anything like this on the regular wires and I've had Wylie checking pretty carefully. Actually keeping him busy is all I've had to do. Of course, only a 'Wylie', can repeat the same procedures day after day and not end up with mental plonk. I do have to admit Wylie seems to handle it far better than most. I wondered how something as weird as this could ever have slipped by him." With very little urging, another call had the wire service checking their records.

"The original source is a Western Washington weekly," Fox mumbled, his interest was now more than a little aroused as he hung up the telephone. "Since things are still open on the West Coast, that paper is just another inquiry away." He made another call. "I think I might be on to something, he thought. The reporter's story was published only last week, meaning it must be relatively current." After a conversation with the newspaper editor, Fox's eyes were dancing. "Now I have a FAX copy of the original article on its way here, along with the name and address of the contributing reporter." Elation ended abruptly when the editor said the reporter was on assignment and not expected to return for another few days.

Unable to wait for confirmation, Fox was on the telephone again. It rang several times, before someone answered. "Wylie?" he growled impatiently.

"Mr. Fox?"

"Yes, I want you to pick me up at my apartment, packed and ready to go in one hour. We're heading back to Seattle."

Bad luck, Wylie grimaced. In another thirty seconds I would have been out the door to go pick up my date for a Mets game. "Again?" he questioned, his displeasure evident.

"Yes, again!" Fox retorted. "I just got some new information to check out. "One hour. Do you understand?"

Wylie heaved a heavy sigh, and replied slowly. "Yes sir. Your place. One hour. I understand." Wylie hung up the receiver, mumbling, "Uncle Joe, or not, I'm going to have to get out of this racket. It seems every time I have a date, Fox calls and tells me we're heading back to Washington." His face contorted in disgust and he heaved a sigh. Oh well, at least it's the green of Seattle this time, instead of the desert half of the state. We spent enough time there a couple months ago to last me the rest of my life. I sure wish we'd get lucky and catch them soon. He picked up the telephone to break another date.

########################################

Over the past weeks Paul had found Scott spending more and more of his time with Amy. He often found himself working alone, or with Roy on various projects around the farm. With school starting soon the lecture work had finally dropped off, leaving the time necessary to get everything ready for the coming trip.

Roy and Paul thoroughly checked all the saddles and horse gear. They gathered the camping gear and everything was checked against master lists the Fosters kept to avoid forgetting important items. June and Kathy remained busy planning daily meals and gathering the accessory items for their preparation. They dehydrated fruits and vegetables and precooked some meat for the first few days. Roy's instructions were everyone was to have their personal things rolled into their sleeping bag and ready to put on the packhorse. In addition there were items to bring Roy considered mandatory if they were going any distance from camp, including a coat, hat, raincoat, food, matches, pocket knife, sunglasses, a flashlight, a first aid kit, compass and map.

On Friday, Roy, Paul and Scott put the livestock racks on the flatbed truck and loaded the saddles, saddle pads, bridles, a large supply of rope and some hay and grain. They packed two wooden pack boxes with the cooking gear, gasoline stoves and food supplies, making sure they were of equal weight for the comfort of the horse. They were placed into the truck ready to hang on the cross-arms of the packsaddle. The sleeping bags and personal items went into June's trunk. The last thing to do before turning in was prepare lunch for four. Everything was ready for an early morning departure.

########################################

George Fox and Wylie arrived back in Seattle just after midnight, found a hotel near the airport and turned in. They would rent a car first thing in the morning and head north to Whidbey Island. Fox had Cynthia Tuttle's address and phone number as well as the name and address of the child's father, but fully expected, as was usually the case, that neither would be home. I'll make good use of my time by clearing my authority with the local law enforcement. Seeking assistance will get me police support if I need it. If indeed the alien and the boy are hiding out on this island, I want to be ready to take them without drawing any unnecessary attention, but in this case a backup plan is mandatory. It's wonderful being out of D. C. again. This time I feel confident we are going to apprehend the creature. I'm sure Its incarceration will lead us to the rest. It bothers me more than anyone can imagine that these aliens continue to roam free on Earth.

########################################

The mountain travelers were up by six, ate breakfast and had the horses loaded by quarter to seven. The truck pulled out of the driveway with plenty of time to catch the seven-thirty ferry to the mainland. Paul volunteered to drive the first leg of the journey.

%%%

Sitting in a rental car in the long Saturday morning ferry traffic for Whidbey Island, George Fox was more than impatient and grousing silently. We were on our way early enough. Traffic on the freeway was light. Why is this so slow? There goes the second ferry we've missed. George, he chastised. The sun is warm coming in the window. Put your head back and relax. We're half way up the first row now and presumably the next ferry is ours.

I think Mr. Fox is asleep, Wylie thought. The ferry is here and the cars are unloading. Why am I watching the people in the cars getting off the ferry when we're waiting to get on? I guess I just like watching people. Since being assigned to assist Mr. Fox in his search for alien life forms, I try to be alert to everyone I see. I have a good memory for faces, but not always for the names to go with them.

Wylie watched the last vehicle lumber off the ferry dock and reached for the key, to start the car. Suddenly the sound of smoothly meshing, multi-axle gears caught his attention. The key temporarily forgotten, as with all the other vehicles coming off the ferry, he looked at the occupants. Startled he shouted to his superior, "Mr. Fox! There he goes!" Simultaneously he reached for the key and started the car. Jerking the stick down into low drive, he cranked the wheel all the way to the left moving forward until he bumped the car parked in front of them. He pushed the drive lever into reverse and cranked the steering wheel all the way to the right. Rushing back he bumped into the car behind. Jerked the stick back into low, he reversed the wheel for another attack on those unfortunate enough to be around them.

Fox awoke from his catnap with a start and looked at an almost deranged look on his associate's face. Has the man finally flipped out? he thought. His head spun around looking at the faces of the drivers of the automobiles around them and his eyes got wide. "Wylie, what are you doing!" he shouted, almost in panic.

"I saw him, sir!" Wylie repeated, ecstatically.

"You saw who?"

"The alien, sir! I just saw him driving a big truck off the ferry!" Wylie adjusted the steering wheel for another assault and bumped into the car in front. He shifted again.

"You saw him?" Fox questioned. "You're sure?"

"As sure as I can see you sitting there beside me, sir. It was Forrester. No doubt about it." Their vehicle again bumped the car behind. Wylie cranked the steering wheel as far as he could, finally getting the car into a position adequate to get out of the line. He gunned the engine and the vehicle hit hard against a four-inch concrete barrier used to divide foot traffic from vehicles. He hit a second barrier marking the far side of the footpath and finally clearing the back wheels, lurched out into the street in the direction the truck had gone.

Wylie continued up the highway well in excess of the posted speed limit for the residential area. Before long he realized he should have caught up already. "A truck that big couldn't have gotten this far ahead of us, sir," he told Fox. "It must have turned off." He pulled off onto the side of the road for instructions. Another vehicle with familiar flashing lights pulled off behind him.

%%%

Paul, following June, had turned left off the highway onto a city street. He had not seen Fox and was in a more than happy mood. He and Scott were to be recipients of a Foster horse trip, an offer made to few other than family.

As the congested ferry traffic disbursed, June, not planning to wait for the slower truck went ahead to deliver Amy, Sandy and Scott to the seminar. Cal would be waiting at the registration desk and she wanted to review the arrangements for the rendezvous again with all of them. When she was sure everyone understood the plan, she and Kathy would drive back to the trailhead to rendezvous with Roy, Paul and Scott.

%%%

While Wylie accepted the traffic citation, Fox sat silently staring forward. As the officer drove off Fox could keep himself contained no longer. "Well, if you were right and it was the alien driving the truck, that little stunt of yours cost us a possible easy apprehension!"

Wylie cringed at the attack, but replied with confidence. "What else could I do, Mr. Fox, he was getting away."

"Maybe 'he' wouldn't have gotten away if you hadn't wasted so much time getting out of line. You could have flagged down the next vehicle going the right direction, you dimbo."

Unable to understand his boss's attitude, Wylie said, "They were the last vehicle off the ferry, sir," Wylie stated confidently in self-defense.

"Oh," Fox returned, curtly.

Wylie grimaced. "I'm sorry sir; I did what I thought best."

Fox looked at his associate with a condescending frown. "Why don't you leave the thinking to me?" He paused, expecting a response, but got nothing more than an apologetic look. "Well, what did the truck look like?"

Wylie's enthusiasm returned immediately when he realized Fox needed information only he could provide. "I couldn't see the license number, sir, but it was a long flatbed with high wooden sides. A Ford, I think. Earlier 70's model ... and red."

Surprised his associated remembered so much about the vehicle in his excitement, Fox proceeded with orders he knew the man could understand. "We'll check the Department of Motor Vehicles and get a list of anything registered out on that island fitting your description. Being in a truck, it's obvious they've been living over there, so it's logical to assume they'll be back. These alien's free and easy existence is about to come to an end because we're going to be waiting instead of chasing this time."

Wylie made a U-turn across the highway and started back toward the ferry where he had seen a telephone booth. Suddenly, spotting a 'Washington State Patrol' sign in a building complex, he turned left across the roadway again. Entering the parking area he saw the same familiar lights flashing in the side mirror. Wylie received a second citation for the U-turn and twice crossing yellow highway lines denoting no left turns.

Shaking his head, a grumbling George Fox got out of the car and went into the State Patrol office. He gave them the basic description of the truck and also instructions to detain the occupants. He advised he would call to find out if they managed to find it. He returned to the car with a motor vehicle department printout of possible vehicles owned by island residents.

Wylie drove carefully down to the ferry. The waiting line contained three hundred, or more, cars than when they had bulled out of it and after waiting three additional ferries they finally drove out onto Whidbey Island. Their destination, the county courthouse, was a forty minute drive that took them about two-thirds of the way up the long crescent shaped island. As luck would have it for once, it was also the area where both James Billingsley and Cynthia Tuttle lived. After establishing his authority with the locals, Fox called the both Billingsley and Tuttle and answering machines verified neither had returned early.

Perhaps I'll be lucky this time, Fox thought, and the state police will have stopped the truck by now. He placed his call. This time is no exception, he thought as he hung up the phone. Now, I know why long ago I gave up on anything being easy when it applied to apprehending this creature and Its half-breed offspring. That's why instead of dealing with law enforcement, I much prefer doing my own leg work whenever possible. Besides too many uniforms around its lair will only alert it to danger. He looked at the long list of truck owners. Still I have to admit it's only logical to contact the local law enforcement to obtained assistance in finding addresses. Obtaining the services of a deputy, they began a systematic check of possible vehicles in the immediate area. By day's end the closer possibilities had been eliminated. Tomorrow he would continue with those in the more distant areas.

%%%

Half way over the mountains Roy took over the driving from Paul and they proceeded down the east side of the Cascades toward their destination. Paul, gazing out the window at the passing scenery, recognized many landmarks. This is the same highway Ellen Taylor used to bring us to Seattle, he confirmed. It's strange how our paths seem to overlap. It must confuse Fox as well. I also feel sure Fox will never think to look for Scott in a school in the summer, or me high in the mountains. I will admit, thinking about Fox makes me a little uneasy about separating from Scott, but he is growing up and needs to be with others for his social development. He smiled, I'm sure Scott will be enjoying himself during the coming weeks, but I am going to miss him. An hour later Roy drove into the access road for the trail. He backed up to the unloading ramp and they unloaded the horses and tied them to a railing provided for that purpose. They then unloaded the rest of the gear, fed and watered the horses and moved the truck to the designated parking area. With time remaining they settled down to wait for June and Kathy.

The ladies arrived about eleven and after eating lunch everyone got down to the business of packing. Roy designated Red the packhorse and a crude but functional packsaddle was placed on his back and cinched tight. The two wooden boxes were hung over the saddle cross-arms and sleeping bags and the vast majority of the camping goods were loaded and secured on top. The other horses carried the balance of the gear in saddlebags tied behind the saddle or in paired burlap sacks fastened together and hung across the front of the saddle. They finally mounted and with Red following loose in the rear, started up the trail.

Paul was delighted, for with Duke watching where they were going, he could look around freely. This trail is very different from those around the farm, he observed. It's narrow and seems designed for the use of only one horse or person at a time. It is also very rocky. In about a mile they passed a large sign, 'Alpine Lakes Wilderness Area Boundary, elev. 2,240'.

We have traveled up and down, Paul observed, though it is obvious we are constantly gaining altitude for the wide stream on our left is running opposite the direction we are going. After we passed the sign the level trail has given way to much uphill and little down. I like to close my eyes and listen to the sound of the stream as it flows over large boulders and tumbles into deep pools. I think it reminds me of music from home.

He continued to observe, relating what he saw here to the forests around the farm. This does not qualify as the managed forest Roy described, he confirmed. This area is rough and natural and possesses a raw pristine beauty. Large evergreen trees stand as silent sentinels to time, while littering the forest floor in all directions are those companions who have stood and stand no more. Where they have stood, vast numbers of crowded brushy plants and young trees compete for a share of the light necessary to continue. This demonstrates the interminably slow and relentless ways of nature here on Planet Earth. Those ways do have a beauty of their own, but I doubt they, or the inhabitants of such a place, can prevail for long over man's needs. The miles passed by observant eyes and in tempo to the constant plod of horse's hooves.

An hour up the trail Roy stopped to give the animals a breather. Paul dismounted and walked over to June. "Why do you put the big pack on Red and put him in the back? I hear him always running to catch up."

Over the past couple months I've sometimes wondered where Paul comes up with some of his questions, June pondered. This one, however, is valid for I feel personally involved. I'm sure his knowledge of horses has come from riding around the farm. "The individual characters of the horses on a mountain trail are different than around home, Paul. Up here Red follows well, but walks slowly. If we put him anywhere except the rear he tends to slow us down. If we have somebody riding him, they would either have to keep beating on his sides to make him keep up or tolerate the trotting to catch up." She rolled her eyes. "I can assure you this trip is long enough without either. As you just mentioned, when he's the packhorse and gets behind, he just trots or gallops to catch up. Unlike a person, the pack on his back doesn't feel the pain. With this method we don't have to tie him to another horse. Believe me, he doesn't want to be left behind, so he'll never let us get totally out of sight."

"Oh," Paul acknowledged with a rise of his eyebrows.

June smiled broadly at his so familiar expression. "Monty usually sets a relatively fast pace," she continued. "Typically, Roy rides him in front when we're heading out. Duke may try to nip either Burr or Blackie if he's behind them, so Duke is placed behind Monty, who you already know won't tolerate it. Either Burr or Blackie can be behind Duke. We have found with this arrangement we can work each horse in his best position and avoid problems on the trail."

"But why don't you do it that way at home?"

"At home the people who usually ride the horses, other than Red, are responsible to make their horse mind. Both you and Scott are natural riders and graduated from Red right away. You control your horses and don't allow them to cause problems for someone else."

"It's interesting, June," Paul remarked, "how you've studied the character of each of your horses."

"Thank you, Paul," she replied appreciatively. "It's also interesting that you're interested. Most people would just get on and go along for the ride without paying any attention."

The rest stop ended and they continued riding through the bottom of a U shaped glacial carved valley among a forest of sizeable evergreen trees. As the miles passed, the creek continued to diminish in width and they waded across it several times. The horses never questioned entering its rushing water. Roy moved Monty over to the far side so the other horses needing a drink might do so.

Having started late, Roy knew of a good campsite and today's plan was to go about two-thirds of the way toward their final destination. It was a camping trip and setting up camp was a part of the experience. In addition, everyone would be rested for the long, hard climb to the pass. Hours passed before Roy left the trail and rode down through a large tree dotted clearing toward the creek. There they found an established camp. Roy tied Monty, and then caught Red and tied him. Paul came over to help remove the pack while June and Kathy started unsaddling the rest of the horses. Roy and Paul took the horses down to the creek for water then tied them out to graze the abundant grass.

June and Kathy got the gear separated into eating and sleeping. They prepared the evening meal on the gasoline stoves for the area around the camp contained only limited firewood, evidencing its heavy use. Using this camp many times before, the Fosters had decided to leave the wood for those in need. The day had been beautiful with broken clouds and they agreed, unanimously, to sleep out in the open without putting up a rain shelter. Aware that current weather conditions could be deceiving, June said, "I want to be able to say 'better safe than sorry', everybody. I'm leaving the tarp at the foot of the bed. The first one who hears a drop of rain is responsible for rousing everybody. We'll just have to pull the tarp up over us then we can go back to sleep."

Paul and Roy checked the horses before dark and everyone retired early. Much to Paul's delight, as darkness came the sky cleared and filled with stars. Out of habit, he routinely pinpointed his position and found home by the star maps that would always remain in his memory. After a while of watching celestial entertainment, he rolled onto his side and listened to the cascading creek. Soon he allowed himself to slip comfortably into a relaxed, almost too human sleep. He awoke once during the night and finding it still dark, lay tracking the star paths that had revolved slowly above and calculated it was still a couple of hours until daylight. Deciding to sleep until everyone awoke, he rolled back onto his side.

I believe I will continue to enjoy this birthday present the Fosters gave me. The insulating cushion of my air mattress provides adequate separation from the rough earth under me to allow this body to sleep soundly. With all the times we have slept on the ground this past year, I wish I had considered stopping this body transformation sooner. The ground never seems to bother Scott that much. Though I can understand why I never considered it, being even ten years younger might have made a difference. What was one of the many sayings I heard June use that fit this situation so appropriately. He smiled. Yes, 'Hindsight is always better than foresight'

Everyone awoke very early and after breakfast, packed up for the last leg of the physical journey. Roy outlined the day's travel plan. "From here on we'll do most of the climbing. After we reach the pass at 7,000 feet, it's a long, steep descent into Spanish Camp. The horses will be earning their keep today."

The trail changed rapidly after leaving the night camp and became much steeper and rockier. Paul noticed Duke laboring for air, and then confirmed the others doing likewise "Roy, why are the horses breathing so hard?" he asked with concern.

"In addition to the steepness of this trail," Roy offered, "we're getting higher." He grinned, "Their systems are adjusted to sea level and climbing steeply after 5,000 feet requires a lot more oxygen. There is less available so working becomes harder. They have to stop often to catch up on their oxygen consumption. By the time we're out another day or two, everybody, them and us, will adjust to the altitude."

Roy stopped the procession many times, allowing the animals to rest. Some areas were so steep that Roy got off to walk and everybody followed his example. It feels good to get off and walk for a while, Paul thought. It gives me a chance to stretch my legs. The steep climbing of mountain riding is very different than a gallop on a level trail. Leading Duke up a particularly steep place, he confirmed. I'm breathing hard too. Like Duke, this body needs more oxygen. I appreciate Roy's frequent stops. He glanced back at Kathy and noticed she was holding on to Duke's tail, allowing him to pull her along. She and June were talking and didn't seem to be breathing nearly as hard. He grabbed Monty's tail and after a few minutes concluded, Yes, a definite advantage, but being the leader, one Roy cannot share.

As the trail reached a less steep area everybody got on again and Paul turned his attention back to his surroundings. There are a few trees as we continue to climb, he pondered, and their shape seems evidence to the fragile hold they have on life in this environment. Their branches are very short, making the trees seem very tall. This narrow shape is probably to shed the large amounts of water in solid form they call snow that must fall here. I can see snow up higher on the mountains. I wonder if we will get close enough for me to touch some.

He continued with his sightseeing. I conclude almost nothing in this area seems to be flat. I have seen 'steep' on many of the worlds I have visited, but never felt such a closeness to it. The forces of nature appear evident everywhere I look. Analyzing the rocks I also recognize many of the basic elements and physical forces I've observed throughout the cosmos. The major and most evident difference here is the destructive force that makes this class of planets so unique ... water in its various forms. The erosion resulting from those forces will someday level these mountains. The same forces that cause the leveling here will create pressures that build mountains elsewhere and the process will repeat.

Paul returned from his study when Duke stopped. He saw Roy gazing up toward what must be the pass he sought. Continuing the climb, the horses stopped often to heave. Soon they approached an area where the trail crossed a steep field of snow. This is my chance to experience snow, Paul thought. I'll get off.

"Stay on Paul," June said firmly, but politely. "The snow hasn't had time to soften much yet. It's solid and with their four-wheel drive, the horses can handle it better than you. If you slip you might slide a long way." She pointed down the snow filled gully to where the snow ended several hundred feet down the slope in a mass of large rocks.

Paul complied without hesitation. I have puzzled often over the saying Roy has used about the horses having four-wheel drive. Now I believe I understand. Each foot provided individual power and traction for though I can feel a foot slip occasionally, Duke is crossing the snow with ease.

As they neared the pass Roy dismounted again and everybody walked the rest of the way to the top. There was an incredible view as they reached the low spot between two mountain peaks. Snow clad mountains could be seen in the distance in every direction. Paul got his camera and took several shots of the view. Then he took several group shots of their entire party by steadying the camera on a rock, setting the timer and running to get into it. Roy laughed referring to his effort as 'rock photos by Forrester'.

Paul put the camera back into its bag and everybody mounted. Roy led them over the pass and down the other side. The trail descended steeply along a path notched out of the mountainside and its continuation could be seen far in the distance. Before ascending another mountain pass about a half mile further, Roy turned left, off the main trail and they started down the mountainside toward the bottom of the valley. Paul noticed short brushy plant life abounded on this steep, almost treeless slope.

Twenty minutes of steep downhill that required hard bracing against the front of the saddle brought them back into some trees and open meadows. A short way further they crossed a creek, proceeded through another grove of trees and out into another meadow. "Welcome to Spanish Camp, Paul," June offered. "We'll be calling this home for the next few days."

Looking around, in his mind, Starman mapped the area. This meadow appears to be a depression perched on the side of the mountain; probably carved from the pressures of ice collecting. Across the valley I see a gigantic monolith of grayish rock supporting little plant life and between is a deep valley. I must assume another creek runs down the valley. This grassy meadow looks like the place to camp. I'll see what Roy chooses. Paul watched. Roy is designating a place I would never have considered, he thought. "Why not the nice flat spot in the meadow?" he asked.

They walked back to Paul's site. "It can rain pretty hard in this country, Paul. If it rains very hard the water in the creek will rise and overflow right into a shelter placed here. Even digging a trench wouldn't help. You might find yourself lying in a small lake."

"What about that place over there?" he asked, pointing to a higher location.

"While higher," Roy offered, "if it rains for very long, water from above will run down here," he pointed to a slight depression in the ground, "and again, run right into your shelter. That depression was made by excess running water." They returned to Roy's site. "This, though not entirely level, is on a slight knoll. Water will naturally drain off on all sides. In addition, this," he pointed to a lopsided three foot tall and obviously stunted alpine tree, "will keep the tarp from drooping in the middle and give us more head room inside."

"You think of everything," Paul said with appreciation. "I'll remember the next time we're sleeping out."

"It comes with years of experience and getting wet in these hills," Roy confessed. "Cal and Kathy had the experience of finding themselves in one of those lakes one night. Their sleeping bags got wet. They changed into dry clothes and put rain clothes on just to stay reasonably dry in the sleeping bags. They were very lucky because the next day was sunny and warm so they could dry everything. The mountains don't care what happens to us when we're up here. It's up to us to take care of ourselves."

As the horses were again stripped of their burdens, June moved the saddles under a tree and covered them with the tarpaulin that had covered Red's pack. While Roy led Monty and Duke away and tied them out on long ropes, June turned the rest loose to graze the lush mountain grass. She saw Paul watching Roy with concern. From the look on Paul's face, she knew what his next question would be and beat him to it. "Tomorrow Roy will tie one of the other horses and you can let Duke loose."

"What about Monty?"

"He always stays tied. Roy doesn't trust him. He's always been a loner and took off by himself once when Roy was hunting. Once was enough, because the rest will follow him. We don't want to spend our time chasing horses, and more important," she started to laugh, "I don't think any of us want to carry everything back."

He felt satisfied with their logic, but there was much still to ask. "You said this place is called Spanish Camp?"

"It used to be an old sheepherder's camp," she explained. "The shepherds were Basque's from Spain. I'm sure that's how it got its name. The creek we crossed coming in is called Spanish Camp Creek. The sheep people used this and many other areas for summer pasturing large flocks until forty or so years ago when the demand for wool dropped with the introduction of synthetic fibers. They don't have any sheep in these mountains any longer. Though camping around some of the lakes may be more picturesque, we like it here because not too many people know about it and we can find solitude. It's not officially marked on any of the general mountain maps."

Shortly Paul was watching the horses in the meadow and soon confirmed if any of the three loose horses strayed too far, Monty would nicker demandingly for their return. Being the boss, his demands were never ignored.

Roy began instructing Paul in the building of the lean-to shelter that would provide protection from any bad weather. To his surprise, he found, Paul quite knowledgeable in the construction of crude sheltership. When finished with the lean-to, Roy and Paul helped June and Kathy lay out the plastic ground cover and set up the sleeping quarters. With home secure, everyone spread out to collect the abundant firewood. The fire would provide extra cooking space and other social amenities in this out of the way camp.

Paul delighted in his wilderness adventure. Even though Scott was not with him, it was proving to be even more than he expected. The weather was gracious and at altitude the sky seemed a particularly friendly shade of blue.

After the evening meal Roy stoked a social campfire with extra wood to provide a place for camaraderie and warming bodies, advising it was part of a ritual established over many years. Roy groused to Paul that some family members always insisted on staying up until late, warmed by the fire on one side and cold on the other. This time proved to be no exception. Kathy and June finally came to bed when Roy threatened to get everybody up at daylight.

With the clear sky and altitude, the temperature was definitely colder. By morning the ground was a frosty white. Paul awoke when he heard Roy getting up. Like at home, it appears Roy is almost always the first to roll out of bed in the morning. I am thankful the Fosters insisted I use their sleeping bag rather than the modest blankets we normally carry in the duffle bag. I really should get up. I can sense June is awake but she isn't getting up. I, too, feel content just lying here warm and comfortable. Paul looked out and saw Roy starting the fire. Finally heaving a sigh, he unzipped his haven of warmth and crawled out.

Paul took over some more of the dry wood stored under one edge of the tarp and soon Roy had the fire blazing. Adding more wood, he placed the large cook kettle of water he had brought from the creek on to heat. It was not until Roy announced the water was boiling that June and Kathy began to stir. In a short while everybody had collected around the warmth of the open fire and had a hot drink in hand. Paul mentioned the frost.

"Frost is still common in the high country at this time of year," Roy explained. "We actually welcome it because with its coming, the mosquitoes and biting flies disappear."

June got things moving along by starting to gather the breakfast materials. The Fosters had a standing camping fare breakfast established over many years of packing into the mountains. It consisted of bacon, eggs, and pancakes. Paul volunteered to make the pancake batter. June, remembering Scott's reference to 'his' grandmothers Christmas gift, asked, "Do you normally use your mother's recipe?"

Paul fumbled, momentarily caught off balance by her reference to his mother, and quickly realizing Scott must have told her about 'Stella's Pancakes'. He recovered his composure and replied, "Often. She gave the recipe to Scott last Christmas." Paul knew he could provide little information about Stella Forrester and decided he must make an attempt to avoid the questions he believed might follow. "Why don't you fix the batter for me," Kathy said. Handing him a pan and a box of complete pancake mix, he followed the recipe on the box then returned the mixture to her willing hands. He left the camp under the pretense of needing more firewood. When he returned the pancakes were stacked high on a metal plate.

With breakfast clean up complete, Roy and Paul walked out into the meadow to move the horses. "Tied horses must be moved regularly," he advised, "or they will overgraze the grass in one place. The loose horses followed them and after selecting new sites and replacing the special stakes he had brought, he caught Red. "Paul, you can let Duke loose. I'll tie Red. Now it's time to go fishing."

Distributing the fishing gear among them, Roy led back toward where they had come down the valley to the meadow. Shortly he turned left, picking up another old trail and climbed up the mountain. Part way, they came upon a patch of ripe low mountain blueberries of phenomenal size and June announced they had to stop on the way back to pick some for the next breakfast pancakes. The climb took over a half hour and when they topped a low hill, they were almost standing beside a deep blue alpine lake.

"This is very beautiful," Paul said as he got the camera. He took several pictures of the lake and its setting and several more of the family setting up fishing poles along the lake shore. I cannot keep from marveling at the beauty of this little planet I now think of as home, he thought. What is to be its future? The area around this lake shows the signs of many footsteps. Unlike Spanish Camp, this place must be on maps. He set up his fishing pole and joined the family ritual of catching supper.

Everybody gathered to eat lunch and found together they had caught sufficient fish for their evening meal. Roy put all the fish into a mesh bag he carried in his fishing vest and placed it in the cold water. The fish would remain until their return to camp.

With lunch finished and supper secure, it was still early and they were free to choose whatever struck their fancy. Roy suggested a climb to the top of a nearby mountain peak to enjoy an unobstructed view. With another pocket of melting snow in their path, Roy, June and Kathy began heaving hands full of it at each other while Paul stood quietly watching. I would like to ask Scott about such odd behavior. I'll take some further pictures. He lifted the camera and snapped a picture just as a snowball hit him squarely on the middle of his chest. I determined I wanted to feel snow and this could be fun. He laid the camera aside, beginning another experience at blending in with the local fauna. It is fun, he thought. I wish Scott was here with me so we could be sharing it and glory of this place, he thought, as he heaved a sloppy snowball back at Roy.

The descent down the mountain was much faster than the ascent and when they returned to the lake for the fish, they found another couple eating a meal not far from where they had cached their catch. Roy stopped to chat and his questions revealed they were from Seattle and had a camp nearby. They were on their last full day of a thirty-mile backpack trip and were hiking out the following afternoon to rendezvous with a friend. Roy took out his map and discussed their route and chatted about the areas where they had stayed. They told of seeing many parties on the trail. A discussion followed as they spoke of damage from overuse around the more popular camping places.

The woman asked if anyone had any weather information, to which Roy answered, "When we're up here we just take what comes." Everyone agreed. They talked about a half hour then exchanged best wishes and with June leading, headed for the blueberry patch. June distributed plastic bags from her fishing vest and everyone picked berries, though many disappeared into more direct utilization by hungry bodies.

########################################

Three days of extensive searching for the owner of the elusive truck had taken Fox and Wylie in an extending circle from the home area of the still absent newspaper reporter and teacher. They eliminated the north end of the island and had moved south, checking a diminishing list of possibilities. Only two remained. George Fox looked over at his associate sitting in the seat beside him. I would be willing to bet we've been doing all this for nothing. I think Wylie saw an alien where there was none. The only thing I can say is it has been better to have something to do than just wait. If this truck search fizzles, it will be back to waiting to interrogate the teacher and the reporter.

He looked at the name on the mailbox at the road, checking it against his list. "This Roy Foster owns a 1973 Ford ton and a half flatbed," he confirmed. As Wylie rolled the car down the driveway he continued, "All I see are two pickup trucks, one with a camper. I don't see any red flatbed truck," he said tritely to Wylie.

Wylie got out and knocked on the door. Receiving no answer he returned and confirmed Fox's suspicion. "Another nobody home sir."

"We should have been done with this list yesterday morning," Fox growled, looking around for any other signs of life.

"It's almost the end of summer," the sheriff deputy offered. "People are away on their last fling before school starts."

Fox's face contorted as he ignored the comment. "Let's check the neighbors," he ordered, as he had already done forty-two times. The officer went one direction while he went the other, leaving Wylie waiting at the house.

At the next house Fox felt the elation of success. He had positive identification and information confirming the alien and the boy had been in the area at least two months. He continued questioning the woman. "The entire Foster family and their guests left a few days ago," she advised freely. "They took their five horses and have gone fishing in the mountains. From what I understand, they planned to remain in the back county for the next couple of weeks." Fox saw a flatbed truck going down the Foster driveway and rushed back to the house. Unhappily, he found it to be a neighbor returning some borrowed tools. The man had nothing to offer he didn't already know. "Why me?" he mumbled. "Why should I have believed I would be lucky enough to have them coming right to me? In this particular assignment, nothing comes easy."

Waiting around for the teacher and reporter became a memory. What remained of vacations was far too long for the impatient FSA agent to allow this alien's freedom to continue. Happy now that he had established his authority at the local law enforcement levels he called the Sheriff's Office and arranged to meet with a deputy at the home of a local judge to obtain a proper warrant to search the Fosters home to find something that might suggest some more precise destination other than they had gone fishing in the mountains. He left Wylie to wait at the house.

Returning to the farm, he found Wylie detaining an anxious Cynthia Tuttle. Fox completed the interrogation, receiving additional information, and then had the deputy escort her out the driveway.

While Wylie and the deputy searched the rest of the premises, Fox entered the house. On the table he found several maps, lists and information for a trip into a Wilderness Area. Assuming the maps to be of the area the subject's intended visiting, he contacted Forest Service Headquarters. Providing area names found on the maps, the ranger advised Fox each map covered many square miles of the primitive Cascade Mountains to the east. He was directed to call Ranger Stations in charge of the areas in question. It was five-thirty. Calls to several numbers went unanswered and Fox concluded the offices had closed for the day. Personal contact would have to wait until morning.

Fox and Wylie caught the next ferry leaving the island. It was well past dark by the time they got over the mountains and found a motel. He called the County Sheriff's office requesting they provide backup.

In the morning the two federal agents, identification and maps in hand, intercepted the first duty Ranger as he drove into his parking space. The backup officers arrived five minutes later.

Fox handed Wylie his tranquilizer rifle and supplies to use in subduing the pair if needed. He assigned him charge of the ground forces to liaison between the deputies covering all the district's various trails. The maps found at the Foster home did indicate a logical exit he considered a best bet, but he instructed Wylie to remain where the subject vehicle was found, but directed he wanted everything covered if, for any reason, the fugitives might be planning to exit elsewhere. Fox marked a second map for himself, identifying the placement of all his forces.

As Wylie departed, Fox continued talking to the district ranger. He had already managed to obtain a pair of binoculars and with cooperation seemingly flowing his way for once he wanted to keep it so. He again took out his map, displaying it to the ranger. "I need to get into this area by air. Do you have a chopper available?"

The ranger looked at the map and shook his head. "We have chopper service out of Wenatchee, Mr. Fox, but we can't fly you into that area unless it's a medical emergency."

"It is an emergency," Fox replied.

"Medical?"

"No," Fox returned in frustration, "but isn't this nation's security important enough?"

"The special rules relating to wilderness areas allows only medical or fire control and under very special circumstances. Without prior approval the rules allow no mechanized equipment or travel, whatsoever."

"You're kidding me!" Fox retorted.

The ranger shook his head. "Our maintenance crews can't even take a chain saw in to do the trail work. We are given the saws they used a hundred years ago. Special fire emergencies mean we can airdrop fire fighters, but the fires have to be fought on the ground. We can't even airlift our men out. Can you imagine leaving a guy to hike, sometimes forty miles, through rough country after he puts out, and then mops up after a fire? I don't like it, and it's not rules of my choosing," the man offered. "That's the current word from some eggheads in Washington who have probably never seen a forest on fire. The mopping up is the worst because they have to destroy the burned and injured wildlife. It's ugly work."

Fox looked disgruntled, but still needed the man's cooperation. "I wholly agree with you," Fox offered solicitously. "Washington needs to make some realistic changes," he offered, but thought, why tell me? It's not my agency. We have a far bigger problem of our own right now. Of course, I know if I contact the agency I can get a military chopper for this arrest, but I also know the speed at which they seem to move for me. His nose wrinkled up at the thought. I'll be sitting here in the ranger's office waiting for authority and this alien will be getting grey hair from worrying about where I am.

"I'm really sorry," the ranger replied. "We can take you in on horseback if you want to wait until our trail boss comes in. He should be in by tomorrow afternoon."

"That could be too late," Fox rebuffed. "Any other suggestions."

The ranger shrugged his shoulder, momentarily wanting for a suggestion. Then he thought of another alternate. "There is a private packer up the road about twenty-five miles. I'm sure he could take you in right away."

Fox's mouth contorted into various shapes thinking over this other unacceptable option. I'll first try handling matters myself with regard to the air search I want, he plotted. He looked back at the ranger. "I'll check up the road with the packer. By the way, I had to give my tranquilizer outfit to my associate. Do you know where I might pick one up around here?"

"With your badge and handler's permit numbers, we can issue you one on your official signature," the ranger offered.

Fox pulled out his hard earned handler's card. "I also need the drug."

"The kits come complete. Just hold on and I'll get one from supply." The ranger returned in time to relay a radio message just received from Wylie. "Your associate says he found the truck where you expected. He'll remain there unless he hears from you."

Fox acknowledged receipt of the message, made a notation on his map and signed triplicate requisitions for the tranquilizer kit. Picking it up, he returned to the car. Driving to town he asked directions to the nearest airfield where he might charter a helicopter and was directed back to Pangborn Field in East Wenatchee. He told the owner of a private helicopter service the Forest Service had sent him because their chopper was out of the area. With identification, self-confidence and the copy of his Forest Service requisition he informed the owner he had to pick up some important people for a top secret government project. Fox stressed he had little time to spare, and the owner finally agreed to fly him into the Wilderness Area.

########################################

On their second full day in the mountains, the Foster family and the Starman were walking to a small lake south of camp they had seen from above the day before. Picking blueberries had taken Paul to a view where he had seen the overflow from the upper lake tumbling in a series of cascading waterfalls almost six hundred feet down the mountainside. He was anxious for some additional pictures. They followed a faint but distinguishable fisherman's trail moving up and down the mountainside. Steep cliffs appeared and disappeared from above and below. Between grew dense thickets of alpine trees granted nature's permission to survive the snowplow clearing of many winter avalanches. Sharing the avalanche paths were shrubby bushes, annual grasses and wildflowers. Unless one paid careful attention, losing the trail meant a scramble through the thickets. The Fosters' familiarity with the area made it an easy hike.

The surface of the lake, beautifully nestled in a cup shaped depression, mirrored the color of the sky. In the stillness of the morning, from wherever one looked, they could see the surrounding mountains also reflected in its smooth surface. Paul did not even assist in the fishing ritual this morning, opting instead to navigate slowly around the lake. He scrambled through thick brush, rock, and alpine bushes taking pictures of his companions as they stood in various places along the shore. By lunchtime he had circled back to the group. The fishing had been good and the quota of fish was already set aside in Roy's sack. It was still too early to head back so everyone decided to take Paul's hike. He joined them for a second round, this time in the opposite direction.

They got around by two o'clock, just in time to see a brisk breeze riffle across the water. It's a good thing we always insist everyone take a jacket and rain clothes, Roy thought. He looked at June as another stronger gust hit the water. "There is moisture in the air and it's getting cooler," he offered. Untying his coat from around his waist he put it on. "The weather changes rapidly in the mountains. I think we'd better head back." By the time he picked up the fish and secured them in his fishing vest everyone was wearing coats and ready to start back to camp.

%%%

At George Fox's direction, the helicopter pilot proceeded to crisscross the area of Wilderness delineated on his map. I don't really hold out much hope of finding them in this vast wilderness, he thought, but I just can't wait at a trailhead like 'a Wylie'. I have spotted many parties of various sizes, both afoot and on horseback since taking off this morning, but determined it wasn't them. He shook his head remorsefully. It wasn't until I looked over this terrain that I realized they could be naturally hidden from an air search in the many densely forested areas.

In a large meadow area he spotted horses and directed the pilot to move closer. That's the eighth group of horses we've seen already. He counted the animals. The neighbor said they have five. Of course we've seen two other parties with five. He signaled to the pilot to get lower.

"No can do," the pilot yelled. "I don't see anyone around to take care of the animals. We might spook them." He lifted higher and made a slow circle of the area. "Do you see anyone?"

Accepting the man's edict, Fox looked around again. "No. Just keep widening the circle and I'll keep looking. The people with the horses must be somewhere nearby. I want to know for sure if this is the party I'm looking for. Concentrate out from the horses, and work the area between the two lakes we saw from up higher." The pilot acknowledged the order and moved off to check a lake to the north. Seeing no one, he turned south and followed a stream that tumbled from it and flowed down the valley.

%%%

With Roy again leading the way, Paul took the end position following June. They skirted along the mountain, backtracking the route they had used coming to the lake. Roy stopped suddenly, hearing a familiar sound in an unlikely place and echoing between the mountains. "I can't see it, but I'm sure that's a chopper. I wonder what it's doing in here." He watched intently for a while then continued walking.

"That's a good question." June said in a voice reflecting her annoyance. "This is a wilderness area and they're not supposed to fly in here unless it's an emergency."

%%%

Fox looked for anybody who might be fishing the banks of the lake, or merely out communing with nature. Flying down into the valley he looked for any movement and saw several deer bounding for cover. He also saw a small herd of elk grazing lower down in the creek bottom. The helicopter lifted out of the valley to look higher up the mountain toward a second lake. Suddenly he spotted what appeared to be people walking along an open slope. They were moving in the direction of the horse camp. He lifted the binoculars, training them on the subjects. "Only four," he mumbled in dismay. Then, focusing the binoculars further, he scanned the people and recognized his alien at the end of the line. He rechecked the other members of the party. Scott isn't with them, he thought, but the missing boy did not keep his eyes from dancing with excitement. He turned to the pilot, pointing and yelling over the sound of the noisy machine. "There they are. Bring me in close."

"I can't get too close, Mr. Fox. That mountainside is too dangerous. A slight wind variation and we won't get up. If you want to talk to them you'll have to use the bullhorn. It's behind your seat."

"Then get in as close as you can before they get back into the trees," Fox retorted, lifting the binoculars again, almost unable to believe what he was seeing.

"Will do. Hold on. We might run into some turbulence as we get in closer."

%%%

Roy saw the helicopter suddenly appeared far down the valley, lower but somewhat from the direction from which they had just come. It was rising upward. "If it comes close enough, I'm going to get its number. When we get out I think I'll check with the Ranger Station and make sure it has authority to be in here."

"Maybe someone is lost ... or hurt," Kathy said with concern. She saw the helicopter suddenly change course. "It's coming our way." Instantly she thought of the couple at the upper lake. "Maybe something has happened to those people we met yesterday."

Roy continued cautiously glancing at the helicopter as he walked, noting it continued approaching at a speed that to him appeared excessive for normal flying in the mountains.

Paul had just crossed through a small group of alpine trees and was emerging out onto a steep part of the open mountainside. Recognizing landmarks, he knew they would shortly be back in camp.

%%%

Throwing the binoculars on the floor, Fox grabbed the leather bag the ranger had given him. He found and opened a sterile packaged injection dart and as he had done so many times before when close enough to possibly down the alien, drew the prescribed drug dosage he had memorized long ago into the syringe. He picked up the tranquilizer rifle from beside his seat and loaded it.

The pilot opened the throttle covering the open valley where he had room to maneuver. He slowed as he approached the steep mountainside and moved the machine closer, struggling amid the variable winds to hold it steady and within hailing range. Fox opened the door and sighted the rifle.

June stopped short as the intrusive machine came in close. To keep from running into her, Paul stopped mid-stride behind her with one foot on a large, loose rock. Unable to go forward and thrown off balance, he maintained his position as everyone else on even ground turned to watch the approaching machine. Finally, regaining his balance, Paul turned to look.

Suddenly, Roy shouted, "Get down everyone! Some guy up there has a rifle and he's got it pointed at us!"

Less than fifty feet away now, George Fox froze on his target and held his breath. "Now," he barked, squeezing the trigger. The rifle recoiled, throwing the barrel upward. He watched his subject and his face reflected instant gratification when he saw the alien react to an impact. "Ah, ha," he proclaimed with pride. "It's in!"

Paul felt an unfamiliar impact as the tranquilizer dart went through the hood of the jacket hanging down his back and injected its contents into his upper shoulder. I believe I've been shot, he suddenly realized. It doesn't seem as painful as I figured it might be. His thoughts raced. Is Fox in the machine? Has he finally just decided to kill me? He spun around and ran back toward the cluster of alpine trees. I don't seem to be badly injured. At least I can get away from the others. I must avoid getting shot again. Running, he reached into his pocket. When I get out of sight in among the trees I'll use the sphere to protect us.

Fox's shout caught the pilot's attention just in time to see the weapon recoil. He looked toward the hiking party and observed the strike. Turning toward his passenger, he pulled the rifle from Fox's hands and threw it back into the storage area. "Mr. Fox, I didn't sign on with Uncle Sam for any shooting." He looked back toward the people on the mountain and saw Paul running. "Are you crazy? If you have injured that man he might fall. If so he'll tumble toward those cliffs below us."

Paul ran about twenty-five feet before he felt a great flush of heat within the body. Things are getting out of focus, he thought. Now everything is spinning like it did on the carnival ride. I must keep running. He took a few more clumsy strides. I can't go on. He collapsed. I'm falling. Hitting the ground he tumbled down the slope, completely out of control.

Fox cringed as he saw the alien rolling down the mountain. The pilot's right, he confirmed. I haven't used very good judgment. I shouldn't have downed It here. This slope is obviously much steeper than it appears from the air. He grimaced, as his prize tumbled toward the precipice below. "Please stop rolling!" he shouted, as though remorse at his action could somehow change what seemed inevitable.

"I certainly hope he stops soon," the pilot rebuffed harshly as he moved the machine back to a safer position. "What in the world ever possessed you to shoot someone here?"

I'm doing my best to stop my fall, Paul thought, but the arms and legs will not respond to my demands. With the fate that protects the innocent he rebounded from one tumble and landed with arms and legs outstretched and almost flat on his back. His fall broken he rolled only a little before coming to rest in some slightly taller alpine bushes. The air has been forced from my lungs, he thought. I must get more. He was staring back toward where he had first started running, lying partly on his back with his head down the hill. I see June coming this way. Though I have finally taken another breath, try as I might, I can no longer command this body.

Fox breathed a sigh of relief when the alien stopped tumbling. He estimated about another ten feet to the cliff. His concern became almost uncontrollable as he watched Its companions running toward It. Turning to the pilot he yelled, "Get me on the ground!"

"You've got to be joking," the pilot rebuffed. "It's impossible to land here."

"Don't you have a cable?"

"Yes, but you can't use it here," the pilot shouted. "It's too dangerous with this changeable wind." He pointed up the mountain. "These winds are coming out of the west, mister. This east slope is certain to catch the down drafts. If one hits us while you're on the cable, this bird is going to drop suddenly," he motioned down below. "You could go right into those cliffs. I can't risk you being kil..."

Fox, in his impatience, interrupted. "Enough talk. Just get me down on the ground, and make it fast. I'll get myself back here."

"Yes sir," the pilot replied as he noted clouds rolling down and beginning to obliterate the summits of many of the peaks to the west. "Weather's closing in!"

"Right," Fox retorted, his face assuming a look of acceptance. "That's my luck."

The pilot glanced upward and saw violent motion in the trees a short way above them and moved rapidly back away from the slope. From knowledge and foresight grown from experience, he announced: "Lock your door and hold on tight." Momentarily the wind violently buffeted the chopper. He held the controls tightly as the machine lurched suddenly and lost considerable altitude. Only skill and foresight prevented them from going down. "Pretty bad one," he remarked. He noticed the government agent was holding onto the seat firmly. "I understand you wanting to get down there to help that man, Mr. Fox, but I sure can't set down here," the pilot offered firmly. "I also can't take the chance of lowering you on the cable. May I offer you a safer option?"

"Just get me on the ground ... safely," Fox replied in a conciliatory tone of voice.

"When we came over this way, I saw a decent spot up top where I still might be able to set us down. It's about a half mile from here." The pilot frowned. "You'll have to walk back and some of it might be a little rough, but it's better than ..." He looked back toward the cliffs.

"Up top will be fine," Fox confirmed, as another minor gust dropped the machine further.

"Will do," the pilot confirmed, backing off further. "It should still be all right up there. I'm really getting worried about this weather though. The last long range mountain forecast I just heard calls for a deteriorating weather pattern with a series of Pacific storms over the next couple of days. If I put you down and the weather continues to deteriorate, I might have to take off without you. It's highly possible I might not be able to come back for you until it breaks."

George Fox's thoughts were of nothing except his downed alien. He could see It lying on the ground surrounded by Its companions. One was looking his way and shaking his fist. "Just get me down and let me worry about getting out," he shouted.

The pilot spun the chopper a quarter turn and gave it plenty of throttle for the steep ascent. He watched the terrain on the way to the top looking for any familiar features he might point out to his highly anxious passenger. At a closer glance he knew it would be quite a walk back down this part of the mountainside. He topped the cliffs and spotted a good landing area. First hovering to test the wind, during a lull he brought his machine down gently in a clearing. He kept the rotors throttled up to maintain control for he knew the winds could do strange things in the mountains. He reached down into a box beside his seat. "You better take this radio with you so we can communicate," he shouted, handing it over as Fox opened the door. "It's set to my base frequency." Fox grabbed for the radio and anxiously stuck it in his pocket. "And take the first aid supplies. You might need something for the injured man," he yelled as another gust of wind hit. "I can't stay down here waiting for you, but I do have some outdoor gear in back you can use in case I can't get back. I suggest you head up and then veer to the right. I spotted what looks like a fisherman's trail heading down toward where we saw the horses. It might be longer, but the going will be much easier."

Fox, his tranquilizer rifle and supply pouch in hand, and without even a 'thank you', jumped from the cabin and bolted low and away from the rotors back toward his unconscious prize. Is that the pilot still trying to direct me, he thought. I need to hurry and I don't intend to return for information on how to go the long way. In his haste, George Fox started down the mountain, unable to hear anything except the voice in his head that said, 'You got It, George, and now you just have to go claim It.'

The pilot grimaced as he watched his passenger race off toward a low spot marking the drainage from the upper lake. He shook his head and spoke softly, "I might as well have been talking to one of these rocks. The man hasn't considered that he's going into a high mountain wilderness in September and deteriorating weather. He hasn't got a coat, a hat, rainwear or proper footwear. He hasn't taken anything to eat or any emergency equipment except a radio with limited range. He even left his binoculars, though the way he's headed they might be more hindrance than help. He's what the guys at Mountain Rescue Services jokingly refer to as a 'babe in the woods'." He watched helplessly. "It's too late now. Didn't this guy even take a look around as we came up? Didn't he see the waterfalls?" He saw a box still sitting beside his passenger's seat and heaved a sigh. "He didn't even take the first aid equipment. I sure hope that guy he shot is all right. What a super stupid thing to do, shoot someone on a mountainside." Taking another deep breath he let it out, and then again shook his head slowly. "I certainly hope those people have some first aid supplies and can take care of that guy. I wonder if they'll even let Mr. Fox join them."

The pilot noticed heavy clouds rolling down from the upper slopes were about to engulf the flat spot he occupied. I have to take off, now or leave my chopper to the elements and join the group. He opened the throttle and lifted off as another wind-driven cloud rolled down the mountainside after the man from the government.

########################################

"Paul!" June screamed as she started down the mountain. Getting to him she momentarily watched his quivering body lying in the bushes before scrambling to get into a support position below.

Relieved, at seeing her, Paul tried to rise. June grabbed hold of him when his effort caused several violent muscle contractions that threatened to dislodge them from the safety of their perch. "Paul, it's all right," she offered in a voice as calm as she could muster. "I'm here. Everything is going to be all right."

At her comforting voice, Paul tried to rise again. June saw his eyes following her, and then additional contractions. This time she braced herself in time to hold him. "You need to lie still." Now, Paul realized his efforts were threatening to dislodge them both from a haven of safety.

Looking around June saw Roy and Kathy almost down to them and expecting additional contractions, shouted, "Roy, Kathy, help me! I can't hold him much longer! From his movements I'm certain he hasn't broken anything and his arms and legs were working a moment ago, but he seems totally out of control. We have to get him to some level ground." She pointed up the hill about ten feet to the right. "That looks like a better spot than here. Roy quickly took over her position below.

"What happened?" Kathy asked as she joined the effort.

"I don't know," June replied. "I'm sure the tumble down the hill didn't do this.

The alien, within the disabled body of Paul Forrester, tried to evaluate his experience. _The visual receptors still blink and I can swallow, but sensations of the body are disappearing. I can feel almost nothing now. I don't understand what is happening. I do know from the conversation and my changing view, they're moving me._

Roy, June and Kathy, awkwardly half sliding and half carrying, moved Paul to the small almost level area where an obviously large boulder had been dislodged by the prior winter snow. They gathered, kneeling down.

"Just hold on Paul, everything will be all right," June crooned softly.

Roy got up. As the helicopter moved away and hovered he shook his fist at it. "What the hell is going on!" he shouted. "Are you some idiots out joy-riding?"

_Joyriding__?_ the Starman questioned inwardly. _What is joyriding?_

Roy watched the helicopter begin rising. "I wonder where it's going now," he said with contempt as it gained lift. "They take a pot-shot at someone in a place like this then leave." June and Kathy only glanced up then returned to examining Paul. "Well they won't get away with it," Roy exclaimed. He pulled a pen and paper from his pocket and started writing. "I've got the chopper's number." He watched until the helicopter disappeared over the ridge then noted the darkening clouds rolling down from above. "It's going to be raining soon," he advised. "We need to get Paul back to camp."

"Maybe he's been shot," Kathy offered excitedly as she looked down at Paul. "You said you saw a gun?"

"Definitely," Roy confirmed.

"I haven't seen any obvious injury or bleeding from a wound," June said. "Will you help me roll him over so I can check again?"

_Yes, he has been shot,_ the Starman replied as another field of vision change told him he was being rolled sideways. _The movement has ceased and I'm lying somewhat on my right side facing the valley,_ Starman observed. _I can see them clearly. They are looking at me and I can see they're worried. Now I find the receptors will not respond and I can't do anything but stiffly follow the motion. It couldn't be Fox in the helicopter,_ he pondered. _How could he have found me here? I also can't believe he would just shoot me. Of course the government might have changed its mind about wanting me alive?_ He paused. _Maybe it is what Roy called joy-riding, but how could anyone obtain joy from this? Fox is the only possibility that makes any sense._

As they rolled Paul over one direction then the other, June found the tranquilizer dart wedged between folds in the hood of Paul's jacket. "I think someone has used a tranquilizer," she announced, removing the dart and displaying it.

_Is that tranquilizer?_ the Starman questioned, as he briefly saw the object. He observed another movement. _I'm lying on my back and can see only grey sky and their faces looking at me. What is going on? The blinking reaction of the visual receptors has stopped and I can't complete the impulse to swallow I felt a moment ago._

"Why would someone want to do that to Paul?" a puzzled Kathy asked. They looked at each other, but no one volunteered a guess.

Paul's spasms had diminished to a constant quivering, and then the movements ceased and his body relaxed. "Oh, no," June cried as she rolled Paul onto his back.

Roy turned back toward his wife and saw her eyes widening in alarm. "What's the matter?"

"I don't think he's breathing!" she announced in alarm. She checked for a pulse at the carotid artery in his neck then laid her ear down flat on his chest. "Oh, my God," she cried in anguish, "he's in cardiac arrest! Whatever they shot into him with has stopped his heart."

The faces disappeared again and from June's words the Starman became aware of a new reality. _The inward and outward rush of air providing this form the necessary oxygen to sustain life is not functioning and I sense no heartbeat? Without the pump this body will die?_ Focusing his attention within the body he made his own diagnosis. _The only life force I sense remaining is the central nervous system of the brain __... __and me__with no apparent ability to command. I must find a remedy quickly__._

_My sphere. If I can see it I'll be able to command the necessary power to restart the pump. I remember reaching for it before I fell. I wonder what happened to it._ After a few brief moments of review, he reached an obvious conclusion. _Thinking about using the sphere is also a waste of time. I am unable to move or speak so I can't look or ask for it anyway. The only other option is a ship to do a separation. No ships are nearby. Even if one was, if they have to rescue me again it will almost surely be decided I must leave … forever. I think I would rather die here than just leave Scott. I'm sure someone will inform him I have ceased to exist and he will not be left to wonder if I deserted him again. What am I going to do now?_ He paused momentarily. _The truth is I am out of options. It's logical I must accept the inevitable. In my own world I would have lived for many human lifetimes. Now this body is dying and locked within its outside limitations of form, I will follow. When I felt the signal emitting from the sphere I had left for Scott, I had them bring me back. I resumed human form again to determine who possessed it. Against all my friends' logic, I decided to stay with Scott. When they left, I knew this could happen. Now, I must accept it. This body I created is now as much a prison as any George Fox could have created for me … but I think my life force will not survive for very long._

########################################

Scott sat with twenty other students in a lecture on opportunities in the computer sciences. He heaved a sigh. Except for the fact that Amy is sitting right in front of me and knowing there will be a class break shortly, I'm totally bored. I know the computer field is mine if I want it as a career and I took this class only because Amy did. Now I wish I had taken the building trades lecture. I might impress Dad by knowing the difference between more than pliers and a hammer. I might have learned how to use some basic tools in case we ever get a chance to be a family and want to build a house.

Scott looked up. Is the teacher looking at me? Maybe it just seems like he's looking at me. He looked down, avoiding the teacher's look. Suddenly, for some reason he could not understand, he felt a need to take his sphere from his pocket. Puzzled, he looked at it cupped in one hand in his lap. It's glowing, but at less than I know is a normal working mode. Confused, he continued to gaze at it then covered it with his other hand. I don't think I'm doing anything. He opened his hands just enough to see the remaining dull glow. It's reacting to something else, but what? Suddenly an ominous feeling came over him, one he could never explain to anybody. He jumped to his feet and ran away from the teacher; from Amy; from everybody. He felt a need to be alone to try to sort things out. Moments later a worried Amy followed, but Scott had vanished.

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Only a moment passed before June took a deep breath. "We have to do CPR. I'll start the compressions. Roy, you start the mouth to mouth."

Roy's eyes widened as a distraught look appeared on his face. "What?" he questioned.

"Mouth to mouth," she replied anxiously. "Remember the classes we took a few years ago at the firehouse?"

Logic dictated the Starman return his attention from the body functions to the sounds of the world outside his prison. He listened intently to the conversation going on between his friends. _Is this a new riddle for me to solve?_ he thought as he looked outward. _Many words I hear, I do not know. The item June had apparently was not tranquilizer for I think she threw it away. Pot-shot? What is pot-shot?_ he questioned. _I wish I could ask somebody. I wonder if they'd smile at me this time. Could tranquilizer be from the word 'tranquil'? I heard it used once, but in the context of quiet and calm. …This is not calm and quiet. Paul Forrester is dead. And this other strange word, SeePeR. What is SeePeR? Another acronym? What does it mean? … Compressions? Mouth to mouth? Cardiac arrest? Cardiac I know refers to the heart. That I remember from the time I was in the hospital and Ralph Woolery died during a heart test. Arrest, from experience I know means to be locked away. Used together the two words do not make any sense. It is apparent, however, my friends are planning to do something … to me?... For me? … But what?_

The level spot the four occupied wasn't large, but would make Cardio Pulmonary Resuscitation easier on those doing the procedure and they already had Paul in a satisfactory position. June unzipped his jacket and located the sternum in the middle of his chest. Using three fingers she measured up from the little point at the bottom of the rib cage. There she placed the heel of her hand and almost automatically placed the other hand on top of the first. Giving the first compression was given she glanced up toward Roy, currently trying to remember the position needed to give the mouth to mouth when she noticed Paul's eyes still open. "Roy, close his eyes. We don't want them to get dry."

_Please don't close my eyes,_ the Starman shouted from within. _If I'm going to die, I want to see until I can't see any longer._ He saw Roy's face appear in his now static visual range again. _Right now I'm looking out through the visual receptors for what might be the last time. The last thing I see may be Roy's confusion before my spirit begins to merge with the cosmos._

Roy looked directly into Paul's eyes then shook his head. His nose and forehead wrinkled in surprise and he announced with alarm: "June, Kathy ... look at his eyes!"

Kathy's eyes got wide and her mouth dropped open. "They're the most beautiful blue I've ever seen," she remarked with surprise. "They're almost incandescent. I've never seen anything like it, even when the direct sunlight hits them."

"Look again. ... His pupils are brighter, not darker." Roy added, "Almost like the light is coming from inside."

The Starman saw Roy and Kathy continuing to look directly in at him, seemingly mesmerized. Contemplating momentarily, he concluded, _They're seeing blue coming from inside? They are seeing me in Paul Forrester's eyes? While I still energize the area of the brain, my essence must be distressed and is concentrating in the only living part of this body. I'm searching the nerve pathways to the outside seeking a way of escaping,_ he thought in wonderment. _I am trying to survive__! Interesting, for in reality I know it's not possible for me to leave this body, but illogically, I seem unable to keep myself from trying._ He paused briefly analyzing the phenomena that seemed so strange to his being. _Over the past months I think I have almost become human. Occupying this form for so long I have become accustomed to its crude life support systems, not often thinking of the various biological functions involved. Hmm,_ he mused. _I wonder what my friends on the ship would think of that._

His being gave what in human terms might have been construed as a sigh as he continued contemplating his fate. _I wonder how long it will require for my life energy to be exhausted. I guess I should be glad Scott isn't here to see this. I should have taught him what to do. If he were here he would feel irresponsible for not knowing. I wonder if he's mature enough to consult his sphere. Maybe … But…?_ Visualizing his son's face, he paused. _No matter, Scott isn't here._

June, glancing quickly, made little attempt to justify the unworldly appearance of the Paul's eyes. "It has to be the light playing tricks on us," she offered. She saw Roy and Kathy gazing intently and silently transfixed. I must break them away because another more pressing matter needs attention. I've counted ten compressions already. While continuing a single handed compression, she reached over and purposefully lowered Paul's eyelids to break their stare. "If you ever want to hear him ask another question with those raising eyebrows of his, or see him look at you with that bewildered look, we need to be dealing with the emergency at hand."

Almost in tears, Kathy looked back at June. "He's going to die, isn't he?"

"Yes," she replied sharply, "If we don't get moving. If we do CPR, he has a chance, but we have to get going with this everybody. We'll have to take turns or we won't be able to keep it up." She bumped Roy's leg with her knee. "Roy, breathe for him!" she insisted, "Now!"

_Breathe for me,_ the Starman puzzled. _How can they breathe for me?_

It amazed Roy that he remembered the information from the First Aid class. He lifted Paul's shoulders enough to move his head back to open the air passages and pinched off Paul nose. Positioning his mouth, he took a deep breath. Suddenly he remembered a high point of the CPR instructor's lecture. 'Breathe normally unless you want the victim to throw-up' and gave the first conservative breath.

"On my five count," June advised.

Five more compressions and Roy gave a second breath. Five to one, establishing the rhythm they would have to continue until their friend recovered. Between breaths Roy mentally reviewed the first aid course regarding CPR: Fifteen beats, two breaths, if you're alone. Five beats to one breath if you have June beside you.

Kathy looked back at Paul and then at June. "What do you want me to do?"

June continued the compressions almost automatically, now. "Can you make sure we're getting a pulse?" Kathy placed three fingers on a carotid artery. She waited a few moments then nodded. "Good", June replied. "Now, will you go back to camp and get his sleeping bag. If we're successful, we'll still have to deal with the possibility of shock. The weather's getting colder and we need to maintain his body temperature. You might also bring your dad's wool stocking cap to stop any further heat loss from his head and neck. It's in the top of his sleeping bag."

Kathy nodded her understanding and headed back to camp.

########################################

After leaving class, Scott left the areas where everybody seemed to congregate. He was standing completely out of sight in a grove of pine trees and gazing at the still glowing orb in his hand. All efforts, so far, at trying to turn it off had been unsuccessful and he felt totally inadequate with this object that was his heritage. It's you, isn't it, Dad? he guessed. I don't understand. Are you in trouble? Tears began flowing down his cheeks. Something has happened. An accident? I know it isn't pain I'm feeling. It's more like ... what ... afraid. His face contorted. ... What's wrong? All I know for sure is I have to find you. Shortly, Scott saw people disappearing and he knew classes were resuming. He went looking for Cal.

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_Amazing_ the Starman reflected. _I sense the heart beating again, but all is not normal. It's a forced beat, not the two beat rhythm I'm accustomed to, but I can hear the sound of air going in and out again__._ He turned his attention back within the body again. _Oxygen is being supplied to the brain and I surmise, to the body, but the amount of free oxygen is lower than it should be for the normal waste exchanges. The air exchange is also not the natural rhythm. It's rhythmic, but I hear no smooth change from inward to outward._ He puzzled over his new discovery. _It's almost like the air is just … flowing out rather than being expelled by contractions of the chest muscles._

He pondered his earlier questions. _Humans seem to have devised a method of sustaining life within these fragile bodies. It must be for a limited time, perhaps until needed assistance can be obtained. I think they're doing this for me. _He searched the biological systems again. _Still, I detect nothing within the body to lead me to believe it is capable of functioning any longer._

Kathy put the stocking cap on her head and roughly rolled a sleeping bag, tying it with a long rope she found on a packsaddle. She grabbed a saddle and rushed over to Red. Securing the saddle she doubled the lead-rope for reins and returned to the hillside as fast as she could over the rough ground. She was back on the mountainside in less than twenty minutes. She tied Red to a stout tree along the trail about forty feet away and rushed back to where Roy and June were working on Paul. She placed the cap on Paul's head then wrapped the sleeping bag around what she could of his exposed body. June and Roy never missed a beat.

"Kathy, as soon as you feel able, will you take over for your father?" June asked, in rhythm to the chest compressions.

"I haven't taken a class for a long time. I'm not sure I remember."

"Just watch for a minute. It'll come back."

Watching her father she soon remembered the instructions and picking up on the rhythm, took over. In another five minutes, Roy took over for June. Five minutes later June took Kathy's place.

While resting, June picked up one of Paul's hands. She shook her head. "Your hands are so cold," she said. Searching for a pulse, she felt only the weak artificial one Roy was presently providing. Curiously, she lifted Paul's eyelids. The Starman again saw light and diverted his attention to the outside. For the first time June saw fully the strange, almost negative, sky blue glow Roy and Kathy had described.

_I know you see me,_ the Starman thought. _I can tell by the startled look on your face. I'll try projecting my appreciation for whatever you're doing for me. I hope you'll understand._

June looked deeply into Paul's eyes this time, but it was more than just the color or the strangeness that attracted her. Suddenly her hand felt very warm and the warmth spread throughout her body. She looked at Paul pensively. I know your hands were cold, she thought. Still I feel like I just picked up a warm hand when mine is cold. Her attention returned to Paul's eyes. You seem to be ... looking back at me, almost like your eyes possess a life of their own. A deep frown appeared. I feel like you're trying to say something. She looked away as Kathy nudged her aside to apply the life sustaining breath then withdrew for the five count.

The Starman saw June disappear and Kathy's face appeared and retreated again in rhythm to the movement of air. June reappeared momentarily and closed his eyes again. _Right now Kathy's movements are linked to the continuation of the oxygen exchange. … Of course, breathe for me, mouth to mouth,_ he deduced. He now turned his activity toward trying to identify his mentors. _There is a pleasant, but distinctive odor about Kathy. I never paid attention to it on the farm because of the simplicity of visual recognition. Now I can identify her even with the visual receptors closed._ June appeared again. _Did she understand me? Her eyes reflected no shock or fear, merely a compelling curiosity,_ the Starman pondered. _I might never know. Please do not go until I can identify you also. If one pays close attention it seems everybody is distinctive. Yes, now I'll be able to recognize you also. Roy, you are easy … horse, smoke and fish. This gives me a feeling of closeness even though I may never see any of you again._ Time passed.

June felt Kathy pushing her aside again, but after delivering the breath, she could not keep from opening one of Paul's eyes again. She closed it again when Roy reminded her of her duty. She shook her head, as though trying to break a spell. What is it I saw? What was it I felt? She looked at Paul's expressionless features. Somehow ... I believe you were thanking me ... but you're... She frowned. How? She grimaced over the strange feeling that had engulfed her. She shook her head again, trying to throw off a web of confusion. She let go of Paul's hand in preparation of taking over from Roy. If anyone ever asks me about this, all I can say is it was ... spooky. Can it be the light, or maybe my desire for some sign of life? I do so want him to live.

As the light disappeared again, the Starman returned to his limited world of contemplation. _Did June understand I was trying to relay my gratitude for their efforts? Will what they're doing give me the chance to thank them personally, or is theirs just a ritual attempt to sustain life. I still sense no life force within this body. Paul Forrester is as dead as when I found him on Mount Hawthorne._

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Cal was in the cafeteria when he saw Scott approach. "Where have you been?" he demanded emphatically. "Amy was worried sick when you ran out like that. She's still out looking for you."

Scott walked over to face Cal. "I'm sorry, but I have to leave," he offered decisively.

"You what?"

"I have to go to Dad."

"You can't."

"Cal, I have to."

Cal gave Scott a worried and apologetic look. "You know I can't just let you do that. They're way back in the mountains, Scott. Without help, your chances of ever finding them are almost nil. I still have trouble finding Spanish Camp and I've been there before."

"I have to go," Scott stated confidently. "Don't worry, I'll find them."

"How?" Cal asked bluntly. "You don't even know where the trail begins."

"I'll find them!" Scott stated confidently.

"Well I can't let you go. Your father is depending on me to take care of you." Cal looked questioningly at the concerned look on Scott's face. "Just what makes you think you have to find him?"

"I can't explain it," Scott said bluntly. "I just know."

"That's a poor reason." Cal returned. Immediately he saw a growing look of desperation in the boy's eyes. "You're aware we're meeting them Saturday. Can't it wait?"

"No, it can't," Scott replied decisively.

"Well, you have to wait!" Cal advised with an air of authority born of experience with classrooms of troubled teens.

Scott looked Cal right in the eye and unable to stifle the tears forming, he pleaded, "Cal, please help me."

"I can't let you go!" Cal returned. "You have to wait."

Scott studied Cal's look for a long moment. If he won't help me I'll use my sphere to find Dad, myself, he decided. With a look of determination, he turned and walked away.

########################################

Never thinking of giving up hope, Roy, June and Kathy desperately carried on. Changing positions at five-minute intervals allowed one to be resting and thus they continued their efforts.

_I wonder how much time has passed and how long they will continue._ Starman questioned. _How long can a human body live without damage at this reduced oxygen level?_

"Tranquilizers usually wear off quicker than this," June offered during her rest period. "Perhaps the effects remain longer if the body is not functioning normally? It has to start wearing off soon." She took over the breathing duty from Kathy.

If the Starman could have raised Paul Forrester's eyebrows, he would have at the revelations in her words. _Whatever tranquilizer is, with time it wears off! Perhaps I need to stop trying to preserve energy while I wait to die. I don't have to lay here and accept it! I need to continue to help Scott and I must struggle to live for all of us, Scott, Paul Forrester and myself It is not near this body's time to 'go out'. If I am to be part of this world, giving up is not its way. Maybe I can direct personal energy to restart the pump. … I must try._ He concentrated. _I have my energy resources gathered. Here goes … no response. Perhaps I have insufficient resources available. I had to reduce my energy level during the transformation or burn out this body as I was doing sixteen years ago to Scott's father. I guess I must accept what is coming. Suddenly the decision became clear. No, I shall not give up! If tranquilizer wears off, perhaps the lack of response is because the body of Paul Forrester is not yet physically able to accept my help. Nothing will be lost if I keep trying_.

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In his haste to get to the alien, George Fox left the helicopter and pushed on toward the shortest route to the alien. In minutes he encountered impassable cliffs. He tried skirting the cliffs by moving to his right along the hill and came out onto a dirt slope. As he tried to cross, the dirt continually gave way and he moved downward with it, struggling to maintain his balance. He realized quickly how poorly prepared he was to handle the terrain.

He found a tumbling stream and remembered the old timer's tale to 'follow it down'. He soon discovered the rocks were wet and slippery and his feet continually slipped from under him in his smooth soled city shoes. Within the first five minutes he found himself sitting on his rear more than standing on his feet and the descent was getting steeper. He stopped and looked around and found he wasn't more than a hundred feet from where he started down. He decided to abandon the water course for almost anything else.

He heard the pilot's voice on the radio. "Mr. Fox, don't go down there. There's a trail a little way up and to the left of where I left you. It would be longer, but..."

"Thanks," Fox replied, "but I'm going to take the shortest route." The mere thought of climbing back up over what I just came down, makes that an easy decision, he thought. After all, what's a half-mile?

"Suit yourself, Fox," the pilot replied. "I do want to tell you the weather's closed in solid. I had to take off when the wind started working my bird over. I'm returning to base. The radio is set to my frequency, but with the mountains between here and there you're going to be without communications. Weather permitting, I'll try to come in for you again about noon tomorrow. You're on your own at least until then."

"That's not what I wanted to hear, but what can I do," he offered and they signed off. "Oh well," Fox moaned. "I don't believe the alien will be able to navigate very well for at least an hour and I didn't want to climb back up there today anyway. I'll have the horses removed tomorrow, and then he can pick me up down below." He continued cautiously downward.

The easy going of earlier didn't last as the terrain changed rapidly. Falling was frequent as he encountered a tangle of often shoulder high brush literally covering the damp slopes around the drainage from the upper lake. The dense brush grew out horizontally from the mountainside toward the valley, the result of the heavy burden of snow it lay under much of the year. With only the limber growing tops turning upward, he literally walked on the tangle of their small bouncy, horizontal trunks. His legs fell through several times, leaving him almost unable to move and uncomfortably suspended by the bouncy brush above nothing but empty air. Escape took great care and much exertion. He had to pull himself out with his arms to get his legs out, and then slide himself back on his stomach to a place with something underneath.

Fearful of losing his only communication with the returning rescuer, he had taken the all-important radio out of his pocket and finally stuffed it into the leather tranquilizer kit bag. Even at that, keeping track of the rifle and the bag presented enough problems. After a fall, his struggles required he lay them down or gently toss them to a safe place and many times they would fall to the ground underneath. He expended a great amount of time and energy, knowing he must retrieve them.

His efforts to find an easier route led him away from his original landmarks and shortly he was becoming disoriented. He started talking to himself freely. "I should have paid more attention as we flew up top. Now I'm not sure of where I am. Every rock and tree is beginning to look like every other. I wonder if I'll ever find the alien in this jungle. George, you might as well acknowledge it. You're lost."

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As he walked away from Cal, Scott sought encouragement from his father's gift. He opened his hand. It was still glowing. He stopped walking and concentrated on the orb. I don't feel distress anymore. I feel... What? He puzzled momentarily. A thank you? His question was expressed openly on his face as feeling flowed to him from the sphere. He frowned over the strange signals as he continued concentrating on the sphere. I feel a strange, questioning curiosity now. I know it's you Dad, but somehow I think things are better. Suddenly he became aware that Cal was calling to him.

"Scott, please wait!" Cal called anxiously. "I can't lock you up so I'll see what I can do. I do have an obligation to the seminar, but maybe we can take off a little early. I'm almost certain, though, it won't be at least for a day or two."

I feel a little better now, Scott thought, but not enough to give up going to find Dad. Cal knows where to go and having his cooperation will save time because I won't have to hide from him. I know he'll have to try to stop me and I don't want him to call the police. Scott turned to face Cal. "As soon as possible ... please? I really need to go to him."

"Okay." Cal put a comforting arm around Scott's shoulders and guided him out of the cafeteria. "Come with me and I'll check with administration right now."

"Thanks," Scott offered now that the wheels were in motion.

########################################

To the Starman there was no way of judging the passage of time as his three friends continued in their efforts to revive the body. _I will continue to fight for my life by periodically directing energy to the pump until my life force become exhausted._

Totally unaware of the life within the body of Paul Forrester struggling for its existence, June turned compressions over to Roy to take her break. She looked at her watch and tears began to fill her eyes. Someone is going to have to suggest the obvious, she thought. With tears flowing down her face, she spoke brokenly, "I hate to bring this up, but how much longer do you think we should keep at this?"

Kathy was just straightening after completing a breath. "If we quit," she replied in anguish, "what are we going to tell Scott?"

June gathered herself again as Kathy provided a breath and straightened. "I know how you feel, Kath. I'm sure we all feel the same, but it's been almost an hour. We can't go on forever. We'll just have to tell Scott the truth." She wiped away the rivulets running down her cheeks and sniffled, "We did our best. That's all anyone can do. We have to accept there is a limit to how long life can be sustained like this. It could have been a highly allergic reaction to whatever tranquilizer they used. We have to accept the fact it might have been hopeless from the start."

_This is it,_ Starman concluded. _They're ready to give up. I hope I have enough energy rebound for another try so soon after the last. I'll have to gather every last ion I can find._ He concentrated on gathering and directed the electrical impulse into the body's pump. _Please go!_ he urged vigorously.

Kathy had her hand behind Paul's head in exchange position. Ready to administer another breath she despondently watched Paul's chest, praying to herself for some sign of life. A chill ran through her body, but she followed through with her CPR responsibility as though programmed to perform. When she straightened again a fleeting smile appeared on her face, and then vanishing just as quickly. At the five count she applied another breath and watched, determined the plug would not be pulled on her watch. Her smile returned then bloomed into a broad grin. Now, breathing hard with excitement she announced: "Life can be sustained this long. June ... Dad, I think he just started breathing."

June motioned to Roy to stop compressions for a moment. She laid her ear down on Paul's chest and a tremor coursed through her body. A grin and fresh tears appeared simultaneously as she straightened. Closing her eyes, she gasped with relief. "I think we've done it."

_It worked_, the Starman acknowledged with a human happiness for continuation as he heard their words and felt the resumption of the two beat pulse within his region of occupation. Now, he reviewed his observations of the past hour with a growing interest. _It's strange, I wasn't even aware of my panic and appearance until I heard them. I never thought about continuing as any human would, to fight for my own life until I understood that is what they were doing for me. As my need for knowledge drives me to understand, is my own being just as driven to survive. Are these drives so thoroughly locked within my genetics … in the genetics of all my kind, that we're not even aware they still exist? Do we merely need a reminder? It would be interesting to find out if they can be revived so all may experience again the wonder and joy of … feelings._

For a few moments Roy, June and Kathy watched the rhythmic rising and falling of Paul's chest with a growing pride. Then Roy zipped up Paul's jacket, folded his arms across over his body and pulled the sleeping bag completely over him. He rolled him slightly from side to side to tuck the open edges underneath. As they all sat on the level spot, physical and emotional exhaustion caught up with them. It had been misting for almost twenty minutes, but no one had noticed.

Roy looked up at the lead grey color of the sky. He knew rest was not yet to be theirs as the misty drizzle fell upon on his face. "It's going to be raining soon. We need to get him back to camp." He got up. "The last thing we need right now," he said with a smile, "are four soaking wet people."

Kathy started to get up. "I was thinking about getting Paul to camp when I went for the sleeping bag, Dad," she announced proudly. "I knew it would be hard for us to carry him from here, so I rode Red back." She started walking up the hill to where the horse stood. Roy followed. "I figured we can use him to move Paul. I even grabbed some rope so you could tie him to the saddle."

While Roy and Kathy got the horse, June checked Paul's eyes again. Surprisingly they seemed normal. "It's gone," she mumbled. "It had to be the light. What else could have made your yes look like that?" She looked deeper, and then shook her head. And how could that light say thank you?

The Starman again saw light. He saw June looking directly into his eyes and heard her words. _This time her face does not have the startled look of earlier. I must have disbursed again; possibly when my heart started._ He saw June's finger again then the light disappeared. This time, for the Starman, there was no remorse at its passing as he reveled in his thought, _I'm alive._

########################################

Waiting on a bench in front of the Administrator's office for Cal to return, Scott continued to watch the sphere. I have felt many strange sensations, he pondered; a brief feeling of relief and a strange curiosity over things he couldn't understand. When a strong joyous feeling flowed through him, the sphere's glow finally disappeared and for some reason he breathed a sigh of relief. He knew whatever waiting he must endure, though difficult, would now be bearable.

########################################

Having just saved himself from another fall through the limbs, Fox mumbled loudly, "I have always considered myself to be in good condition. I exercise religiously and have good endurance, but now my body is also tired from lack of sleep and this constant struggling is beginning to take its toll. Anytime I'm chasing these aliens, I'm always uptight and sleep doesn't come easily. Sometimes I just have to use sleeping pills, but I hate the feeling of having to depend on anything or anybody. Last night I waited too long before taking something because I felt it might have left me groggy this morning. I knew this chase was going to require my full attention. Now, to further add to my problems, it's drizzling. Everything is wet and I can feel it soaking through my clothes as well."

Carefully watching his footing, he skirted around a large area of tall wet brush. In these shoes, it's easier traveling over coarse rock than dealing with the steep open slopes. Still, if I wasn't in good condition there are a number of times I might have fallen. It's too easy to step on something loose or have a handhold fail. Several times I've had to go through areas of cliffs and large fallen rocks. Everything seems to make my downward progress less than slow. I have to lay my equipment in a safe place and hold on with both hands while pressing against a rock wall to move any direction. I found myself seeking help from the small trees or mountain brush that grows sparsely wherever it can find sufficient soil to set root.

It amazed me to find the confidence I have developed to wholly place my safety upon such meager looking plants. At first I felt I had no choice, but soon discovered them to be well-rooted or growing firmly between rocks. All the stuff growing around here seems to have a real tenacity for life. While holding one, I can swing confidently away from the rock walls to catch another. In this manner I have been able to move around many otherwise impassable obstacles. Then I have to retrieve and safely secure my equipment before proceeding another couple feet. For over a half hour downward progress is in feet, not half miles. One failure of foot or handhold means becoming a missing person. The pilot's estimate of a half mile seems more like ten.

Once in frustration, I even cursed the man for choosing the landing site. Then I remember him telling me it might be rough. He even directed me to a trail. If only I had listened. A short way back up the hill and a longer walk on a trail would have been both faster and easier than even a hundred feet of this. He frowned, muttering self-accusingly, "I was the one who had to rush off." He heaved a sigh. It's too late now. I have to take what comes. I know the alien is somewhere below me. I'm also sure the tranquilizer must have worn off long ago. Just the thought of chasing after it through more of this makes me shudder.

His reward came when he saw a clearing that seemed familiar. This could be the place where I first spotted It. In another moment his ordeal was forgotten. There they are, down the mountain and over to the left. Good, it seems the alien is still down and they have It covered with some kind of blanket. I hope It's okay. He quickened his pace around another rock outcropping and into an area where he saw tracks evidencing the passage of rough soled shoes. This must be the trail they were following. I think I'll take advantage of it, but the last part I know will be slipping and sliding again. I never thought twice about the danger of taking It down here. It's a great deal steeper than it looked while hovering in the safety of the helicopter. If the alien had tumbled much further, there wouldn't have been any need to hurry. I shudder at the thought of having to face General Wade with only a body. His funding was based on my promise to deliver a live specimen.

Kathy and Roy were leading Red over toward Paul when the horse stopped suddenly, snorted and pulled back on the lead rope. He gazed up the hill, his ears pricked sharply forward and eyes wide with alarm. Fox was no more than fifty feet away when Roy saw him and if not for the horse, his approach might have gone completely unnoticed. Roy stood watching a stranger coming from the general direction of the lake at which they had been fishing and hoping for a helping hand, was eager to greet a fellow mountain traveler with open arms.

Fox, a wide grin covering his face, continued down toward the group. He looked over at Paul. Good he's still down. He looked up at the man extending a hand and ignoring it, announced with pride, "George Fox, FSA. I'll take over now."

_Fox!_ the Starman thought. _They have saved me only to hand me over to him._

Roy frowned in confusion. "Who?" he asked, recognizing arrogance in the man's attitude. "Take over what?"

"My prisoner of course," Fox returned with authority.

Roy's mouth dropped open as he looked at the man facing him. This mountain traveler is wearing a business suit. "You must be the guy from the helicopter! You're the one who did this to Paul!"

"Paul Forrester is a fugitive and my instructions are to bring him in at all costs. I will state right now, I expect full cooperation."

Roy looked at Fox in disbelief. "A fugitive? You've got to be kidding!"

Fox laid down his equipment, "This is certainly no joke," he offered matter of factly as he leaned over and pulled back the sleeping bag. "In fact, he's a highly sought after Federal fugitive." Fox proceeded to empty the Starman's pockets then replaced the cover. Grabbing his leather bag as he stood up, he stuffed Paul's things in it.

June's response to the words that Paul was in trouble did not change the facts she knew about this arrogant man's methods of capture. "Fugitive or not, isn't the issue," she said forcefully. "Whatever possessed you to shoot at him here." She looked down toward the precipice below. "He could have been killed!"

I'm already aware my action was a judgment error, Fox thought, but Lady Luck has been kind to me for once. He defensively cut her short. "Well he didn't get killed now, did he?"

"Not from the fall, but I want you to know you did kill him," she said glaring straight into his face.

"Bull," Fox retorted as he looked down at the alien. "He isn't dead. I just used a tranquilizer."

"You just used a tranquilizer..." Roy returned caustically. "And we've just spent the past hour giving him CPR."

_They're arguing over me,_ the Starman thought, _and there are those words again, tranquilizer … SeePeR. I wish I could ask what they're talking about._

"You what?" Fox asked in disbelief.

"We've been giving him life support," June confirmed. "The drug stopped his heart. It just started beating a few minutes ago. What did you shoot him with?"

_Life support,_ the Starman acknowledged, _so that's another way of saying it. That's what they were doing. It must be some temporary measure to preserve the flow of oxygen to the body. Amazing how creative these primitive humans can be at times. If given the chance, I will ask them to explain further__._

Fox shrugged his shoulders at the woman's accusation and replied in conciliation. "An ordinary tranquilizer."

"What was it for ... elephants?" she returned caustically.

Fox picked up his leather bag, took the vial out of the pouch and handed it to her. "This ... an ordinary tranquilizer, I got it from the Forest Service."

June looked at the label and gasped. "This says it's for veterinary use only. No wonder that injector dart I found seemed rather large. What in the world do you think the Forest Service uses tranquilizer for ... their employees?"

"It was the best I could do on short notice," Fox stated defensively. "I had to give my partner my regular outfit."

June's mouth dropped open momentarily and her eyes widened in surprise. "Regular?" she asked and her surprise melted into an angry glare. "You mean you do this regularly!" She paused before her next logical question would even come. "How much, may I ask, did you use?"

Fox now felt obliged to defend himself. He took out another darting syringe from the bag and put his thumbnail on the fourth bold line marked on the side. He looked at the reading, "Four cc's. That's the line the department lab technician told me to use for the estimated weight of this subject. He said it was a conservative amount, taking into consideration any adverse reactions that might be experienced."

"Did you ever consider you might be using a different drug," she asked, her voice now rising noticeably. "I assume you read the instructions? This stuff is probably for large animals and could be much stronger." She looked at the label and quickly converted the dosage. "You idiot! You used enough to put 300 pounds of angry bear to sleep for at least a half hour." She glared at the man standing in front of her. "Now, I understand why Paul's heart stopped!"

_Ah, ha,_ the Starman concluded. _Now I understand. Tranquilizer normally puts the body to sleep. The definition of tranquil is to calm. That does seem to fit. So Fox didn't want to kill me. He just made a mistake and used more of the drug than he should. For me it would have been a fatal mistake if my friends hadn't known what to do._

Fox looked at June, seemingly bewildered. "Why are you so excited," he said softly, "after all he isn't dead." He shrugged his shoulders, and trying to think of something further to say, mumbled under his breath: "It probably won't make a difference, anyway. In the long run, he might wish he were."

Roy, had been ready to verbally defend his family against this interloper who had almost caused the death of his friend, but standing right next to Fox he overheard the statement. "That's it!" he announced belligerently. He handed Red's lead rope to Kathy and turned himself to face Fox's now blank expression. "You G** damned Son of a B*****! Your carelessness just about killed a friend of ours and that's all you have to say ... 'It won't make a difference!'" Without further hesitation, he caught Fox with a solid right cross in the mouth.

The punch sent Fox flying backward and yelling as he rolled down the mountainside with arms and legs flailing, and grasping for any hold. He finally managed to spread eagle himself and stopped.

The Starman heard a thud and Fox yell. _Whoops, I think Fox made Roy angry. I hope he doesn't do something that will get them all in trouble._

Shaking, Fox got up and wiped the blood from his mouth onto his coat sleeve. This continuing interference isn't going to be tolerated any longer, he thought. He had his wallet out of his pocket by the time he scrambled up the mountain to where his prisoner lay. He displayed his badge and identification card. "You're not dealing with an ordinary bounty hunter," he spouted. "As I've already told you, Paul Forrester is a Federal fugitive and is now in Federal custody."

"Show me some papers giving you legal authority," Roy demanded.

Fox pulled his service piece from its holster; fired a shot into the air then pointed it at his adversary.

The shot sent Red into a frenzy and Kathy ran over to calm the horse that would be carrying Paul back to camp.

Fox's look got cold as ice. "I don't have to show you anything," he returned, trying his best to hold the weapon steady. "I guess this is my authority for the moment. As I said, Forrester is my prisoner and this time neither you nor anyone else is going to get him away from me."

"This time?" June questioned. Receiving no answer except an obstinate glare from the stranger, she turned to watch Roy.

Roy's eye narrowed decisively as he glared at the man and she was fearful of what either might do. Then she knew Roy knew better than to argue with a loaded firearm, particularly with his family close by. She was relieved when she saw him back off.

Fox motioned toward the still nervous horse with another wave of the pistol and spoke with authority. "I am assuming you brought the animal to move my prisoner back to your camp. I would like to suggest you continue with what you planned." Kathy's touch and crooning had calmed Red and she brought him down the mountain below where Paul lay. Taking the lead rope from Kathy, Fox said contritely. "I'll even hold the horse for you."

Fox held the now quiet Red and watched while the three struggled to load his alien's limp body over the saddle. Under his watchful eye they replaced the sleeping bag over Paul and Roy skillfully tied him there.

"I'm kind of glad he's still out," Roy advised. "Being carried like this can't be very comfortable."

June took up a position on the uphill side of the slope and Roy stayed on the downhill to make sure nothing came loose. "He seems to be hanging in there," she said. I think we're ready to go."

Though he could not open his eyes, the Starman felt sure he was moving. _Fox told them to take me back to camp. I believe they have me secured on Red and we will soon be on our way._

As Kathy retrieved the lead rope from Fox, she looked at the fishing gear on the ground, and then at Fox. "At least you can carry our things back," she suggested. Kathy started leading the horse diagonally and up along the hillside as Fox picked up his things, the fishing poles and fishing vests. Slowly moving upward Roy and June supported Paul from each side to be prepared in case Paul might start sliding off sideways.

_Now there are additional noises,_ the Starman confirmed. _Hard breathing, rolling rocks and Red blowing out his nostrils. We must be on our way back to camp._

As Fox followed behind, he thought, it takes a substantial effort for the man and woman to hold the alien steady while trying to climb the steep hill in brush, loose dirt and rock. In these smooth soled shoes following behind is just fine. I can see the better places to walk. He stopped momentarily, breathing hard as they climbed up toward the trail. I see loose dirt and small rocks tumbling downward toward the cliffs. What a relief it was when the body stopped rolling. Soon he saw the ground leveling off. We've reached the meadow. There's the camp on the other side.

The loose horses had followed Red when Kathy got him and the sleeping bag. Remaining close by, but within calling distance of their leader at camp, the rest of the horses greeted Red with a nicker then fell into line behind Fox.

_The odors and sounds are becoming many and confusing,_ the Starman thought. _I will keep attempting to sort them out._ He listened, intently. _I hear Duke and the other horses, so we must near camp._

Kathy led Red and his crudely packaged and secured celestial burden into camp. She removed the sleeping bag and placed it on Paul's air mattress in the middle of the lean-to while Roy and June untied and brought Paul inside and laid him in the open bag. "I think I'll elevate his head a little," June offered. "He's still so totally out of it I don't see him swallowing much. I don't want him to choke." She unzipped Paul's jacket. Seeing her intention, Roy moved in and held Paul up while she removed it. June folded Paul's arms over his body. "This might help maintain some body heat," she said, as she zipped the sleeping bag to the top and closed it tightly around his neck and shoulders. The jacket she stuffed in the Paul's worn duffel bag and placed it under his head.

_We must be in the lean-to,_ the Starman figured. _I can smell the dead campfire and the freshly cut wood stacked just under the edge. I just heard a zipper and since I know they wanted me to stay warm, they must have me in my sleeping bag._

The rain began coming down in generous quantities as Roy came back from tying Red to his tether. Happy for the protection of the shelter, everybody sat quietly pondering the day's strange turn of events. Anxious to talk to Paul, June continued monitoring his condition, watching for any sign the tranquilizer might be wearing off. She was sure he would willingly shed some light on what had become a very distressing afternoon.

His gun still in hand, George Fox sat near the open edge of the shelter at Paul's feet. I chose this place carefully, he thought. It's advantageous for watching everybody at one time. I must size up each person's potential threat to my success in returning this initially identified alien to the anxiously waiting government authorities. The two women have remained with the alien. Let me recheck my authority. He made a directional gesture with his weapon. One withdrew, but the second did not. I could enforce it, but I think it best to let her continue to monitor Its life signs. He watched the other woman retreat. She's sitting on the ground to one side and behind the first, next to the belligerent man I have to assume is Roy Foster. Fox saw each of them glare intently at him, but he managed to stare them down. With shelter now available, he felt more secure in his position of authority. If there is another firearm around, I feel sure it would have appeared by now. I don't consider my benefactors friendly, but they do appear coercible. I will prevail.

Roy watched Fox intently. I've never had anybody hold a weapon on me before. It really bothers me. I'll continue to study this adversary carefully.

As they continued to eye one another the silence began to tell on everybody and Fox finally asked. "Where's the boy?"

"What boy?" Roy replied, a hard look covering any reaction.

"I think you know who I'm talking about!" Fox stated emphatically, nodding his head toward Paul. "His son, ... Scott. I know they have been living with you. Tell me where he is!"

"Are you planning to arrest him too?" June asked.

"Correct," Fox shot back.

Roy motioned toward Paul. "Like that?" He asked caustically.

"If necessary," Fox replied with equal determination.

Roy gave Fox a set jaw look. "Since you wouldn't show me any warrant, I don't believe you have any legal authority to be arresting Paul, or Scott. I have no intention of telling you anything."

After a couple prior incidents while I chased paperwork, some bumbling police force allowed the alien to escape, I obtained and now carry documentation at all times. "If I confirm to you this is all for real," he offered, "Will you cooperate?" He took papers out of a folder in his inside suit coat pocket, carefully unfolded and handed them to Roy. "Read! These are official Federal warrants for Paul Forrester and for Scott Hayden ... also known as Scott Forrester."

Roy looked the documents over carefully, noticing immediately what he considered an irregularity. "Neither of these warrants states any specific charge or penal code violation. I understand enough about the law to know you must have a charge, or at least a reasonable suspicion, before you can get an arrest warrant for somebody. Personal observation or proximity to a crime scene might be considered probable cause to arrest without warrant, but I know Paul hasn't committed any crime while we've been here."

"The government wants to question him regarding a sensitive security matter," Fox returned.

Roy reviewed the warrants. "This is an arrest warrant. It doesn't say anything about questioning."

Fox looked critically at the man questioning his authority to arrest this creature and knew he must think about his response carefully. The man is correct about the irregularity. The director did some fast manipulation to get it. He couldn't have me approach a Federal Judge for a warrant stating I suspected Forrester to be otherworldly. I think it best to try avoiding the question. "Let's just call it illegal immigration," he offered tritely.

"A charge or reason to arrest isn't for you to decide whenever the notion strikes you," Roy stated with confidence. "This Judge," Roy looked again at the warrant, "Harriman, shouldn't have signed such incomplete documents. I consider these unenforceable."

"Believe me, they are enforceable," Fox barked angrily. "Their authority comes from a much higher source in the government."

"Bull twangy!" Roy retorted. "Legal is legal!"

"Believe what you want to, Mr. Foster. The Federal Government will support these documents and by the time the federal authorities are through, this matter will be out of the hands of the courts and forgotten by anybody with enough authority to make a difference. Forrester and the boy will be guests of the government."

Roy frowned deeply. "How do you happen to know my name?"

"I know your name is Roy Foster, your wife's name is June, step-mother to a son, Frank, living in Portland and two daughters. One, Mae, is married and lives back east. A second, Kathleen, married one Calvin Doran and they live on your farm." Fox watched the two women as he mentioned names and observing their responses, finally separating the wife from the daughter without having to ask. He looked at Kathy sitting beside Roy. "Mrs. Doran, you have two children, would you like me to give you their names and ages?" Observing a negative response from Kathy, Fox looked toward June. "Your people, I understand, live in Southern California. Is there anything else you'd like to know?"

Roy, taken aback by the government investigating his entire family, responded argumentatively. "What right do you have to pry into our affairs?"

Fox reached into his pocket again for his badge and ID, but receiving a glowering gesture to forget it, continued, "Since you left home I've searched your entire farm. I even have copies of your driving records."

"You've searched our home?" June questioned angrily.

"Thoroughly," Fox replied smugly, "and believe me, a proper search warrant is on record. I've also taken statements from several of your neighbors and friends. I might say I found your neighbors very cooperative. They even said they thought very highly of Forrester." Fox smiled, "One even told me she could have fallen for him except he reminded her too much of her brother." He looked Roy in the eye with an equally determined glare. "Now, with that out of the way, I would suggest you all forget Forrester and tell me where to find the boy."

"We won't forget either of them," Roy shouted. "As I said, legal is legal. I also know you must have substantial justification before the use of any lethal force. You never gave Paul a chance to respond."

"He's run before," Fox said smugly, "and lethal was never my intention. I can only take your word that what you told me actually occurred."

_This is becoming quite an argument,_ the Starman concluded, almost with amusement. Fox is good, but I think Roy and June are just as good as far as their arguments go. _If I could wake up this body now, I wonder if I would argue with all of them about trying to sit quietly to talk about this?_

"You better believe it occurred," Roy countered. "Why do you think we were still out there on a mountainside in the rain? I also can guarantee you I will file a detailed report about the incident," he said in words only interpretable as a threat. "The courts have turned real criminals loose on less than an improper warrant. They also frown at the use of any unnecessary force by police or government authorities."

As though legal arguments could improve his chances of remaining free, the Starman cheered for his team. _You're right Roy. It did happen and Fox was totally responsible._

"I guess we'll have to argue it out in court then, won't we!" Fox retorted in kind, his voice raising, one on one, in tempo and volume. "Right now, I'm in charge whether you like it or not!"

_Hmm, Fox has got one there,_ the Starman conceded. _With word from the government, I don't think the courts will turn me loose just because Fox had an improper paper. In fact, with his agency, I don't think I'll have a chance to defend myself in any court._

"Bull****!" Roy proclaimed even louder. "I can still challenge your legal authority!"

Fox waved his pistol again as he spoke with a renewed air of calm and total determination. "Then, for now I guess Smith and Wesson will remain my authority." He looked around the shelter providing the barrier from the elements and noticed the small tree Roy included under the lean-to to support the rear of the structure. I tested a lot of trees coming down the mountain, he thought, and I know this one is sturdy enough for my needs. He moved behind his prisoner, opposite where the woman sat caring for It. He unzipped the top of the sleeping bag and rolled Paul onto his side.

June cringed as she watched Paul's arms flopped limply in front of him. He's just been moved and there is no response at all, she thought. No movement, not even a change in breathing pattern. This doesn't look very good.

_Something is happening again,_ the Starman concluded. _I heard the zipper and sound is coming in from only one direction. I believe I'm laying on my right side. I wonder what's going on._

Fox stretched Paul's arms up and forward, laying them around the base of the tree. He pulled handcuffs from his pocket and awkwardly secured Paul's wrists around the base of the trunk.

June, aghast at such treatment of her unconscious charge, protested. "My God, we treat our animals more humanely than you're treating our friend."

"Don't worry about him," Fox retorted. "After we're picked up tomorrow, he'll think of this treatment as wonderful. Now, he has some friends. Where he's going I'm guessing he won't."

June zipped the sleeping bag then pulled it up until it cover Paul's arms, but try as she might, she couldn't get it over his hands. She looked over at Roy in despair. Realizing her expression was not hard to understand; she observed the look on his face and cringed. I've never seen him so angry in our twelve years of marriage. He's seething inside and looks about ready to strike out at this man. It's only slightly relieving to see Roy is maintaining a certain amount of respect for the pistol often being waved in his direction. I can only wonder for how long. Is he just waiting for an opening?

Fox returned to his favorable position at Paul's feet. He pulled his suit jacket tightly around himself and glared from one to the other. The silence resounded through their shared shelter.

Time passed slowly. June pulled the sleeping bag down enough to check Paul's pulse. I think he's warm enough, she thought, but it disturbs me that the only other sign of life I see is a periodic swallowing impulse. It's weak, but at least I know there's something there. I'll feel much better when he wakes up and I know he's out of danger.

Continuing to watch for some sign of returning consciousness, June didn't take her eyes from her patient. It's been so long and I'm really getting a very uneasy feeling. She tried to shake the foreboding, but finally turned from Paul to address the government agent. "I've never seen any tranquilizer work so completely or for so long. You put a lot of powerful drug into his system and I'm afraid there's a very real possibility he might be in a coma. He may never wake up at all or if he does, there might be permanent brain damage." For the first time since the man had joined them she noted a look of concern, but he remained like a statue, saying nothing.

_Brain damage?_ the Starman questioned. He returned his attention to within the confines of the body his energy occupied and carefully analyzed the cortex and related nerve fibers. _There's no damage I can detect, June,_ he offered as though she expected confirmation. _Your efforts and mine have preserved all nervous system functions._

After having said it, June realized how afraid she was to find out the truth. Another ten minutes passed to her vigil and growing apprehension. She straightened suddenly. Was that a twitch in his cheek? she questioned. Maybe it's just wishful thinking. I can't be sure and I don't think I'll say anything yet. She gazed intently at Paul watching for anything further. Minutes passed. Is his breathing rhythm increasing? I think so. Moments passed. I'm sure I just saw another twitch. ... Now I see quivering. I'm so glad to see something happening. She continued watching.

_I think feeling is returning to the body,_ the Starman confirmed. _I can feel it trembling. I know George Fox is here and soon I must be prepared to face him and defend my friends. I must resume full control._

June saw a more extensive and undeniable reaction. "I think he's coming around," she said. It's been so long, she thought, and consciously she felt unable to fight off an impulse to cross her fingers.

_I order the body to move, but there seems to be no response._ the Starman observed. _Arms, push me up into a sitting position,_ he directed. _Legs… get under me and get me up._ Moments passed. _I can detect no response._ He returned his attention within the body to check further. _What can be restricting its responses.?_

June observed several tremors and saw Paul's body become rigid. His breathing quickened noticeably and she watched his legs slowly drawing up under him. During veterinary visits, I've watched animals under heavy sedation move like this, she thought. She glanced at her watch then reached again to take a pulse. Since I've never seen somebody in this condition, I can only guess about possible reactions. I'll deal with them as best I can. At least this time he won't be in danger of rolling down the mountain.

Fox sat at Paul's feet keeping a wary eye on everyone. Noticing his prisoner beginning to move, he crawled in closer and sat again, mentally preparing for a demand that everybody move away.

_Why can't I take control?_ the Starman thought with growing frustration. _I'll just give it all I've got._ He directed all his resources toward, _Body, get up!_

June saw Fox move and recognized his poor choice of position, "Look out!" she barked loudly at the man. She reached out to restrain Paul as what she anticipated, began.

The Starman's frustrated call for movement finally brought a reaction. The body of Paul Forrester lurched violently as all prior commands of the guiding force within received attention, simultaneously. Large muscles reacted, straightening legs and sending Paul Forrester's feet plowing into Fox. The force propelled Fox out of the lean-to, toppling him into a large puddle of water that had gathered beside the fire pit. With Fox becoming something solid to push against, an opposite and equal reaction propelled the Starman's body forward toward the tree. At the same time arm muscles contracted and restrained by the handcuffs his body torpedoed into the tree. Paul's head and shoulder disappeared under the branches and a sharp broken twig scraped across his forehead until the bridge of his nose came hard up against the trunk.

Fox scrambled to his feet, his face reflecting first surprise, and then fear as thoughts raced through his mind. This time It did try to get me! Releasing the safety, he lifted his weapon and aimed point blank.

Still hoping there was something inside June started talking as calmly as she could. "Paul, if you can hear me lie still. Don't try to fight it. You'll only hurt yourself. ... Just lie still." Hearing her, the Starman physically commanded relaxation, but delayed responses continued to allow the still uncontrollable movements of his adopted form to continue.

Roy watched Fox jump to his feet and saw him release the safety on the weapon. The man is terrified, he thought, and that's an unprotected trigger. I think he's going to shoot. Without further thought Roy made a hasty grab for Fox's arm. As he made his move, Fox stepped back and now slightly further away than anticipated, Roy missed. He grimaced. I wonder if he saw me?

Fox felt lucky to see Foster's move in time. In self-defense, he now turned his weapon toward the more immediate threat.

Roy saw the gun coming his way. Yep ... he saw me. Now I have to try to smooth this over so no one gets hurt. His look fixed on the distance he could see down the round hole in the gun barrel and he offered as calmly as he could muster, "Put the gun down."

"Forrester tried to disarm me!" Fox shouted loudly.

Roy stepped back, raising his hands submissively as he tried unsuccessfully to calm himself while he continued looking down the hole of a loaded high caliber pistol with the safety off. "His kick wasn't directed at you, you fool," he stammered.

"Don't you believe it!" Fox shouted back.

"I don't think he could help it," Roy returned. "Don't you understand; he's fighting himself? You just happened to get in the way."

"And you tried to help him!"

"I was afraid you were going to kill somebody," Roy returned shakily.

June heard the verbal exchange begin between Roy and the intruder. She saw the weapon pointed at her husband and with her head going between conflicts, she continued talking calmly to Paul as he lay entwined in the lower branches of the bushy tree. She sighed with relief when she finally saw Paul's body relax completely. At least that's encouraging. He may be listening, she thought. On the other hand he might have just slipped back into never-never land again.

Paul Forrester's body continued to move toward a greater degree of consciousness and the Starman began to merge with it, reveling in its sensations. _My hands are almost in my face and being held firmly,_ he thought. _Is this Fox's work?_

Roy backed further away from his adversary, lowering his voice in an attempt to quiet the obviously agitated man. "I think he's trying to take control of himself, not you. Maybe Paul has never experienced being drugged like this before." Seeing no change in his adversary, Roy continued his appeal. "Would you know what to expect? His reaction is like that of animals I've seen awakening from heavy sedation." He glanced toward June and Paul then withdrew another step. "Did it ever occur to you that perhaps he's quiet now because he's listening to my wife?"

His heart still pounding as the threatening man retreated to what he considered a safe distance, Fox glanced toward the alien. It is quiet ... and the woman is talking to It. There might be truth in what the he's saying. Slowly he lowered the weapon.

The Starman now felt something strange. _I believe I have something in my mouth. It tastes like..._ He worked it around with a half numb tongue. _What? …I don't know this taste._ Sensations continue to come and he rolled the object again. _It's prickly,_ he acknowledged as he spit it out. _I'm guessing it is a piece of the tree Roy left in the shelter._

When the weapon lowered, June breathed a deep sigh of relief. Now her attention was on Paul. She pushed aside the tree branches and rolled him back as far as the handcuffs would allow, and then gasped. "Now what?" she muttered when she saw blood all over his face.

_I'm moving,_. Starman thought, his concentration broken. _Somebody is rolling me onto my back. It must be June. She is very near. I wonder where Kathy is?_ The handcuffs pulled. _Oh, oh, I'm not rolling all the way; my arms are stopping me._ He spit out more evergreen needles. _I think Fox has me fastened to the tree._

June took her handkerchief from her pocket and mopped at the blood. When she finally found the major source of the bleeding she pressed the handkerchief firmly on it with the heel of her hand. Paul tried to pull away from the pressure. "It's me, Paul," she crooned. "It's all right. Hold still." As Paul lay quietly again, she turned to glare at Fox. Her dislike for their unwelcome guest heightened dramatically and her face openly expressed both her fear and anger. After a few more tense minutes she lifted the handkerchief. It's just a deep gouge, not as bad as it first looked. The bleeding has almost stopped. She put the handkerchief back and pressed lightly.

The first aid kit is on the other side of the lean-to in a box, she thought. With a gun and all this tension, I don't want to ask anybody to go too near that man. What have I got handy to dress this? She saw her fishing vest in the stack of goods behind her, grabbed it and slowly handed it to Kathy. "There's a plastic bag of Band-Aids in the top pocket. Will you get me three of the large ones?" Under Fox's watchful eye Kathy got and readied each strip and June placed them firmly across the still seeping wound.

Continuing to follow June's instructions, the Starman lay quietly. Trying to determine if the final effects of the drug had worn off, he finally forced his eyes to open, but found he couldn't focus. After a brief moment he could not keep them open. Many minutes passed before he tried again and found himself looking directly at June through an evergreen branch. He smiled weakly.

June pushed the branch aside and returned a smile of encouragement. "He's back with us," she announced openly. Her smile quickly faded when his eyes close again and she saw constant swallowing and heard labored breathing. "I don't think he's feeling good." She looked at Kathy and Roy, and then with deep concern, at Paul. "Paul, it will be all right, just be patient," she crooned, as she pushed a lock of blood-stiffened hair out of his face. "Let yourself go back to sleep. Don't try staying awake until you're ready." She saw Roy and Kathy moving in closer to crouch down beside her. "Roy, will you help me get him back onto his air mattress?" Roy lifted Paul sufficiently to move him from under the branches and June rearranged the mattress and sleeping bag underneath him.

While June fussed to get Paul settled and covered, Roy and Kathy saw Paul's eyes open again. Looking directly into them, they moved their heads slightly from one side to the other, as though searching.

June realized what they were looking for. "It disappeared while we were still out on the mountain," she offered as Paul's eyes fluttered closed again.

Roy shook his head, "I know there was something there. We all saw it."

Scowling, Fox looking suspiciously at Roy. "You saw what?"

Roy glared back and his jaw firmly set. Mister, he thought, I decided a long time ago I am not going to cooperate with you. I'm sure June and Kathy must feel the same. "Nothing. Nothing at all," he offered with contempt. Still his questioned remained unresolved. What was it?

"I asked you a question and I expect an answer," Fox returned with authority. His demand brought three narrowing pairs of eyes and set jaws and a look denoting finality.

Aware he was still not fully in control, the Starman rested quietly for another ten minutes. When he finally felt capable, he opened his eyes to the friends who had refused to leave his side. "Hello," he offered weakly. They smiled sympathetically.

June held up four fingers. "How many?"

He looked at her inquisitively, before responding. "Four."

"What's your name?"

Paul looked at her with concern. You know my name, he thought. When he saw she truly expected an answer, he smiled. "Paul Edward Forrester," he said, and he saw an immediate grin.

"Can you tell me what day it is?"

Now I understand, he confirmed inwardly. You're checking for any potential damage to the nervous system. "I'll have to think about that a moment," he replied. "We left Saturday; we were on the trail for two days; we went to the upper lake one day; and today is Tuesday, sometime in the afternoon I would guess. We are in the lean-to at camp." He smiled, reassuringly. "June, I am okay."

She closed her eyes briefly then heaving a deep sigh of relief, she smiled broadly. "Thank God ... it seems you are."

"Paul, can we get you anything?" Kathy offered.

"A drink of water, please. My mouth is very dry."

Eyeing Fox, Kathy moved cautiously over to the water container beside the fire pit. As she poured a cup of water, June threw her blood soaked handkerchief toward her. "Will you rinse this so we can clean him up?"

When Kathy returned, Roy lifted Paul sufficiently and Kathy helped him drink the water. When he finished, June washed his face and announced the remaining scratches would heal better with air getting to them. Now, her curiosity could no longer be contained. "Paul, will you tell us what this is all about?"

Though his eyes still wanted to close, Paul swallowed hard. "First, I want to thank you all for what you did for me."

Knowing Paul had earlier responded to June's voice, Roy knew he must have heard the confrontation with Fox. With no thought to Fox sitting no more than five feet away, he replied, "The idiot didn't understand, Paul. I don't think he has ever seen someone tranquilized."

"For that too," Paul corrected, "but most important to me, thank you for not telling Fox where he might find Scott."

"No thanks are necessary," Roy returned.

"I would also like to thank you for what you did after I fell," Paul added.

"You were aware of what we were doing?" June asked uncertainly.

"Not exactly what you were doing," he said softly, "but why you were doing it," he confirmed softly.

"But you were..." A deep frown covered her face. "Dead."

"This body no longer functioned, but I could see, and hear ... and understand. While keeping my heart beating, you provided the oxygen to continue life within this body. What was it you were doing?"

"Just CPR," she acknowledged quickly.

Paul's eyebrows raised in a questioning arch. "May I ask ... what is jusSeePeR?"

Under the uncertain circumstances, June gave him another sympathetic smile. His question seems so utterly strange, she thought. I figured everyone must know about CPR. She thought of the many discussions among the family the past months. Because of the unusual questions he always seemed to ask, the family had all agreed Paul had to be a foreigner and that he must have led a very sheltered life. CPR, being an acronym, could easily be misunderstood or lost in translation. This question is no different than many of the others. She explained.

Paul returned her smile as he listened. "It was very strange. But feeling a heartbeat from within is very comforting, even if it has been missing for only a short while." He closed his still heavy eyelids with a sigh as he thought of his other major problem. I know George Fox is also listening and in my situation, other than being alive, I really have little to smile about. His eyes remained closed as he addressed them. "Thank you again for not telling Mr. Fox about Scott."

"Again, no thanks are necessary, Paul. We wouldn't give that man the time of day," Roy replied, "but I think we do need to know from you what this is all about. What kind of trouble have you gotten yourself involved in?"

"I haven't gotten myself into any trouble that I am aware of," Paul replied, opening his eyes again to look at them. "The only thing I might have done is to continue running from Mr. Fox". Paul sighed. "My trouble is Mr. Fox. I think he believes I might provide some valuable information to your government."

"Then what do they want with Scott?" Kathy asked.

"He's my son."

Fox listened to the exchange. George, he thought, I think you can rest assured from these people's questions and the alien's answers, they have no idea of what they've been sheltering. You know, unless unavoidable, those who will assume final authority over this creature do not want to rely on even a debriefing by government professionals to keep the lid on this. If you want to forget these people when you leave here with the alien, your best course of action is to separate from them before the alien says anything else.

Puzzling momentarily over Paul's response, Roy said, "I don't understand..."

Fox glanced at the three. You can also wager they are not to be trusted for it appears they have developed some kind of attachment to this creature. Besides, they have already provided all the services you need of them. It's definitely time to intervene. He moved in to take charge, his eyes narrowed in anticipation of another engagement.

"...what kind of information could the Feds want so badly it would justify allowing that turkey to..."

With his face reflecting confidence, George Fox approached the family with flair, style and the tact of a runaway railroad locomotive. "I've had about enough of you three. You have to leave."

Though aware Fox was nearby, Paul's head turned with a nervous jerk and he unconsciously pulled hard at the handcuffs when he saw him. As their eyes met, he cringed. Momentarily he regained his perspective. Now what made me react so to seeing Fox? he questioned. He saw Fox urging Roy to move back with a flip of his pistol.

"What do you mean, leave?" Roy questioned as they backed away from the weapon threatening them.

"You can put up another shelter away from here," Fox demanded. Waving his pistol again, he motioned them outside. "From here I see another tarpaulin hung over some of your camp goods. You can use that."

"Why?" Roy returned with disdain. "This one is large enough for all of us."

"Because Forrester and I are going to use this one, that's why," Fox demanded.

"The smaller tarp is hardly adequate for three of us," Roy sneered.

"It's surely better than nothing," Fox retorted with authority. "I'd suggest you get with it, because as of now you're out of here."

"Using the other tarp means we'll have to move all the saddles and gear in here," Roy countered. "That's going to be a lot of work out in this rain."

"The sooner you get it done and set up your shelter, the sooner you'll have a place to sit out of the rain." Fox suggested smugly.

Roy, June and Kathy, grudgingly, proceeded to put on their rain clothes. They moved all the saddles, pack boxes, saddlebags, stoves, and cooking and eating equipment along one side of the lean-to, and then took down the other tarp.

Fox objected when they got ready to place their camp in a small group of trees a little way from the lean-to. "Further," he demanded forcefully and with a quick gesture of his arm, "Much further."

The three looked critically at the man continuing to cause them such aggravation, but had to concede to the loaded weapon he held. This time they moved a considerable distance into a grove of trees near the creek. They pitched the tarp, a-frame fashion, over a single central rope tied between two trees. When secured they returned to pick up their things and retreated toward their new cramped home.

"And don't come back," Fox ordered explicitly. Shortly after they left, he looked around the shelter and his face contorted. It seems the only sleeping bag left, happens to be occupied. I guess it's just as well. I don't think I'm going to sleep much with them around. He moaned as he sought to justify his lack of forethought. Relaxing from now on is not advisable anyway. My only consolation is the helicopter will be back tomorrow. I just have to remain on top of things until then. When I have the alien safely aboard the chopper, these people will become another alien related memory. Now it's time to get things straight with this creature. Fox turned to Paul. "I've sent your friends away, not only for my safety, but for theirs. If you insist on exposing yourself for what you are, you will be guaranteeing them an extended stay with our government debriefing experts. Your silence could save them and their families unnecessary grief and worry."

Fox just confirmed what I suspected, Paul thought. The government is trying to keep my existence a secret. These people have befriended Scott and me. Now they have saved my life. The last thing I want is to cause them harm. Paul nodded his understanding. "Good," Fox acknowledged. I guess we can agree on something." When George Fox saw his prisoner turn away and close Its eyes, he settled in for the duration of an unplanned camping ordeal with his captive prize.

Many times during the next hour the Starman felt the total oblivion of deep human sleep. While in a brief wakeful period, he thought about this new experience. I have not imposed this sleep, but seem unable to prevent it. Could it be because my struggle for life lowered my energy level to critical today? Now it seems my activity is as low as this body's was when I had the cold virus. Resting in this human form seems to relieve my stress as well. It is very interesting.

Fox continued to maintain his vigil at Paul's feet. Noticing his charge awaken, he decided to break what had become a wall of silence. "You've been very quiet," he offered.

Paul rolled over as far as the handcuffs would allow and turning his head, looked toward where he knew Fox was sitting. Barely able to see him, he looked sadly toward his captor. "Mr. Fox, you have drugged me, and though it might have been accidental, today, you killed this body. You now have me chained like a criminal. After your accusations the last time we spoke, I really can't think of anything constructive to say."

With the verbal ice broken and words finally being exchanged, Fox decided to press on with his inquisition. "Can I ask you about something that's going to be an issue by tomorrow?"

"Would it make a difference if I said no?"

"No," Fox returned bluntly, "I intend to ask anyway."

Paul turned away. "I figured when we met again, you might ask me something requiring an intelligent answer. I was hoping it might be something that might lead to meaningful conversation."

A grim, determined look appeared on Fox's face. "What will it take to convince you to tell me where to find your son? It would save us both a lot of worry and him the further danger of having to be apprehended. I feel almost certain he will not come to me unless you cooperate."

Paul turned back far enough to strain hard against the handcuffs. He glared at Fox and responded in a voice heavy in a very human belligerence. "You would ask me to betray my son?" His look intensified. "In Los Angeles, when I believed you might have found him, I had to ask. Now, I know you do not. At this moment I would say you have about as much chance of me telling you where he is, as I have of you volunteering to let me go. I would judge the chances of either, nonexistent."

Fox rose to his knees to look directly at his captive. "You know I have to find him, and I will," he retorted.

"Then you will have to find him, because I certainly will not offer him to you."

Fox glared back. "You know we have other methods of finding out what we want to know," he threatened.

Paul returned Fox's glare in kind. "I will say it again, so you are sure to understand. No method you have will make me give him to you."

"Then I'm to assume you will not cooperate," Fox confirmed.

"If I were you, I would conclude that to be a reasonable assumption."

For a brief second their eyes met. "I guess we do understand each other, after all, don't we," Fox said.

Turning away again, Paul replied succinctly, "Mr. Fox, we don't understand each other at all."

"Well, I think I understand you," Fox returned assuredly.

"Congratulations," Paul offered.

Fox glared back at Paul. "I guess there are at least some things we can agree on, now. I guess that's better than before."

"I can safely say we have one," Paul confirmed.

There was a long silence while Fox's mouth contorted from a broad smirk to a determined set of his jaw. Paul turned again to look at him and his belligerence disappeared, replaced by a look of deep sadness. It was a look most anyone would have found little difficulty understanding. He continued to look directly at Fox out of the corner of his eye until Fox turned away. Paul turned back toward the handcuffs confining him to the tree and shook his head slowly. His part of this attempt at conversation was at an end.

The rain continued to fall in a non-ending deluge with everybody thankful for the roofs over their heads. The small stream that had meandered through the meadow filled to overflowing as the ground became unable to absorb the water descending from all parts of the mountain above. The meadow was a landscape of entrapped and running water. The creek, earlier used for the water supply, could be heard roaring over the sound of the rain and occasional wind gusts.

George Fox had been decisive in his demands they all leave and not come back, but June, Roy and Kathy had purposely left many things at the lean-to. They had taken the food, but left the equipment needed to prepare it. Dividing things, they knew would mean the supplies would have to be brought together before day's end. Preparing meals would give them a chance to see Paul and be sure he was all right. The least they could do was make sure he remained as comfortable as possible. Though an imposition, they had already accepted they would have to feed the government man for it was beyond their ethical standards to refuse food to anyone.

Dinner was now, unless they wanted to prepare it by flashlight. Not wanting to press the man with numbers it was decided June would go over alone. She walked up to the lean-to, openly announcing her approach, but she still saw Fox jump nervously. Equally on edge, she responded in kind and stepped back. I know I must stay this first time, she thought. Stopping to regain her composure, she announced: "We'd like to start fixing dinner. With our place being so small, we had to leave the cooking supplies here. With this rain, we need to set up inside. We will prepare enough for everybody if that's okay. We would also appreciated doing it all at once and have everybody eat here."

Fox saw a sincere expression on her face. After confronting the alien, I don't believe It desires to cause these people further grief by exposing Itself. It is not in my best interests to cause any more tension than already exists. I guess I really should have thanked them for keeping Forrester alive for me. Besides I am getting hungry. With a nod and "Okay," the deal was made.

June stood up and gestured for Kathy and Roy to bring the food boxes. She was apprehensive again when she saw Fox take out his weapon when Roy arrived. It's obvious this man doesn't trust Roy, she confirmed. That is understandable since Roy was openly opposing him until our eviction. When Roy brought in the first box, she heard Fox tell him to keep his distance and felt relieved when she saw him doing so.

The three seasoned campers started dinner on the two single burner gasoline stoves. The meal consisted of rice, the fish they had caught at the lake and dehydrated vegetables.

George Fox gratefully accepted an offered plate of food, but bluntly refused to release Paul. He watched as the two women helped the alien sit up among the branches of the tree and fed him. Their actions still tell me there's no great love lost between us, he confirmed. They wear their feelings openly. It would be stupid not to take advantage even if they are feeding me only because of the alien. The alternative is to voluntarily go hungry. That makes no sense.

"Use this to clean your plate," Roy said as he handed Fox a slice of bread. "Up here we don't have much hot water available for washing messy dishes." When Fox complied without protest, Roy asked, "Do you want something to drink? We have coffee, tea, cocoa or water."

Fox responded eagerly, "Coffee, please." When Kathy handed him the cup, he held it in his hands. The heat from my coffee is penetrating my cold hands, he thought and giving me a rush of warmth. I'm going to hold it even though I know the coffee will get cold faster. He finally drank the coffee with unusual relish. I'm sure glad they carry coffee for I have to admit I'm addicted to caffeine. I had to get some good strong coffee soon or have one of those horrible withdrawal headaches I detest.

Roy, June and Kathy washed, dried and set the dishes ready for morning. June crawled behind the tree and with a length of cord from her pocket, ran it around the lower branches and tied them around the trunk. "There, now we can see you," she said as she moved to Paul's side. "Is there anything you need?"

"I'm all right," he replied.

She checked the bandage on his head. "Good, a hard lump of clotted blood has formed in the bandage. That will keep the wound protected from further contamination. Now I think it's time you tell us what's going on, Paul. What does the government want with you?"

"It's all very complicated," Paul replied.

"There has to be more," she offered. "Why does he treat you like you're public enemy number one?"

"Because he's afraid," Paul returned. He glanced at Fox and caught a determined glare as their eyes met.

"Afraid of what?" June questioned sincerely.

Acceding to Fox's glare, Paul looked back at June. "I really don't know."

June frowned deeply. "Will you please tell us something?"

Satisfied with his prisoner's apparent desire to save Its friends, by remaining quiet, Fox resumed authority. "Mrs. Foster, I think it's time you all return to your camp."

Their curiosity still unsatisfied, the three left. They had much to discuss.

Surrounded by a thick fog and the sound of an unceasing downpour, two hours passed. It seems unreal out there, Fox thought. He looked back at the alien. I think It's still sleeping. In fact that's about all It seems to do. He got up and stepped out into the rain. Seeing no visitors, he walked a few feet, stopped, and hastily returned.

Paul, awakened by Fox's movements, rolled as Fox returned. "I also have to go out," he announced.

"What?" Fox asked, surprised by his prisoner's almost demanding tone of voice.

"Free me. I need to go," Paul restated with increasing urgency.

Fox looked at Paul with disbelief. "Fat chance," he replied forcefully.

"You can't keep me confined to this tree forever," Paul offered. "Whether you believe it or not, there are certain basic biological functions you and I share. I need to go." Paul's eyebrows shot upward ... "now!"

"Okay, okay," Fox conceded. He rolled his eyes and shrugged his shoulders. "I guess I just never thought about you having to ... well, you know."

"Well, I do have to ... you know."

Approaching from behind, Fox partially unzipped the sleeping bag. He cautiously removed the outer handcuff, releasing Paul from the tree. Paul pulled his hands back and stretched his cramped arms out fully. In a smooth movement Fox rolled him face down, sat astraddle his back and pulling his arms back, shackled them together.

"What are you doing?" Paul asked.

"Arms behind is standard field procedure for movement of a prisoner," Fox advised.

Paul rolled his eyes. "While I appreciate your willingness to be of assistance with my problem, I can assure you I have been here long enough to learn how things work."

"What?" Fox questioned.

"May I ask how I'm supposed to...?"

"Oh," Fox acknowledged as he further visualized the situation. Momentarily, he sat unmoving then unlocked the handcuffs again. Moving Paul's arms over his head, he replaced the handcuffs as they had been. Now It's capable of running, he thought. I need to maintain control. Pulling out his pistol, he retreated to a safe distance. "Now you can get up."

Paul rolled over and fumbled to open the zipper on the sleeping bag further. Finally able to unzip it enough, he crawled out and stood hunched over under the lean-to roof. Cautiously he stretched the body in every way he could, while trying not to alarm his captor. He picked up his duffel bag and saw instant alarm on Fox's face. His eyebrows rose as he saw the weapon lifting and calmly held the bag out to Fox. "My raincoat is in here."

Fox took the bag, backed away again and dumped everything out on the plastic ground cover. He poked through the items and when satisfied there was nothing threatening, set the bag down and motioned Paul to put things back. Fox backed off as Paul stepped forward to retrieve his things.

Setting his raincoat aside, Paul replaced everything in the bag and put it back at the head of his sleeping bag. He picked up the raincoat, threw it over his head and hanging it by the hood, worked the garment around to cover his shoulders. Holding the raincoat around himself against an occasional breeze, he announced, "I'm ready." Fox nodded and they walked out into the weather.

Fox followed attentively, watching for any others who might be out and around. As Paul walked up a trail behind the lean-to toward their typical backcountry open-air latrine, he felt each of his front pockets. As I suspected, Fox has taken everything. I know this to be customary from the other times I've been arrested. Giving a silent sigh, he returned his attention to the more pressing matter.

The latrine facility consisted of a wooden box with an appropriately placed circular opening in the top and a hinged lid. The family kept a dry roll of paper in a lidded coffee can beside it. Though easy to get the big job done, handcuffed it was quite another thing finishing the paperwork and getting back together. Paul struggled while an impatient Fox, with pistol drawn, waited in the downpour.

Returning to camp and under Fox's watchful gaze, Paul removed his wet raincoat and hung it over a rope just inside the shelter. He sat in the open sleeping bag and pulled it up to his waist and reached for the duffel to get his coat. He saw Fox motion with his weapon and heard his demand.

"Lie down!"

Paul followed instructions without question. He pulled the sleeping bag over his shoulders and after zipping it to the top, rolled toward the tree. "I'll probably have to go out again before night," he said quietly, as he put his arms around the tree to be restrained.

Fox moved in from behind. Placing a knee on Paul's back, he reached over and secured him. Pausing momentarily, he thought: It is quite obvious It cannot free itself from handcuffs. I also don't think this thing really wants to die. It must be vulnerable for It also shows a great deal of respect for my weapon. As long as I have that, I can maintain control.

A little time passed before the Starman decided to address some things he felt would become growing problems. "Mr. Fox, I want you to know I have an extremely sore chest. I assume it is from my experience with 'CPR'. It really hurts a great deal when you use your knee to hold me down. I am also unable to keep my hands covered. Though warm now, they will not stay that way chained around the tree. I would appreciate it, if you would..."

"My heart bleeds for you," Fox interrupted mockingly.

Paul pondered momentarily then glanced around to where he knew the agent was sitting. I see nothing but contempt on his face so I must conclude his words possess some meaning but none significant to my problem. Looking at the agent he slowly shook his head, drew in a deep breath then let it go. "June was right when she said they treat their animals more humanely than you're treating me."

"What do you mean by that crack?" Fox snapped.

The Starman turned his head away. "Figure it out for yourself."

"If you could hear us talking you haven't been unconscious all this time," Fox said moving closer.

"No, I was not unconscious. Thus afternoon you killed this body, but you did not kill me, though that would surely have happened if my friends had not known what to do to help me. I also know how you treated them." Turning his head back toward the tree the Starman's second attempt at meaningful communication ended.

For a long moment Fox studied the restraints. Can I make this better without compromising safety? he pondered. Brief moments later he got up to get the tranquilizer bag. Opening it he pulled out the second set of handcuffs brought for the boy. Testing, he found the wrist shackle would fit snugly around the tree's sturdy young trunk. In a move that seemed almost a compassionate compromise, he removed Paul's right handcuff and brought both arms back from around the tree.

Surprised at being freed from the tree, Paul lifted his head and watched as Fox replaced the loose handcuff back on his wrist. Fox then picked up the loose end of the one hanging from the tree and fastened it around the chain between his wrists. Surprised, Paul pulled his hands back and the extra distance allowed him to get both hands inside the edge of the sleeping bag. Fox then withdrew without comment. "Thank you," Paul said gratefully.

"You're welcome," Fox replied almost without thinking then retreated to the place he preferred being near his prisoner.

Having my wrists from around the tree allows me much more freedom of movement, Paul considered. The extra length of chain also swivels around a little and lets me move around further. Now I am able to assume many other positions. This improvement may also allow me to maintain a semblance of eye contact with Fox. I am now especially grateful I have my air mattress to soften this continuing contact with the ground.

Fox looked back at his handiwork. It is still restrained and keeps Its hands warm at no further risk to me. When he saw his prisoner could now roll almost onto Its back, he looked suspiciously at what he considered excessive and unnecessary activity. Brandishing the weapon again, he threatened, "If you give me any trouble, one squeeze will permanently eliminate you as a problem."

Trying to rationalize the response, Paul stopped moving abruptly.

The alien's immediate response to his demand increased Fox's confidence. "I want you to know I'm not afraid of you, but I am telling you outright, my orders are to bring you in alive, if possible. I'll follow those orders if you let me, but if it comes to losing you again, I will not hesitate for even a moment to take you out."

I don't need an explanation for that expression, Paul thought. His meaning is in his words and the tone of his voice as well as his way of handling the weapon. However, I do appreciate this partial freedom of movement. Perhaps I should try again to get some conversation going. So, welcome or not, here goes. Starman moved the sleeping bag from in front of his face to better see Fox. "Yes, I understand," he acknowledged. "There is another thing I wish to tell you. We have already been camped here for three days. It will be dark soon. At this altitude it gets very cold at night. You're wet; your clothes are inadequate; and you're going to get chilled if you don't cover up."

"I can take care of myself, thank you," Fox replied bitingly.

"I just thought I'd offer to share my sleeping bag. If we unzip it we can use it like a blanket. I feel sure it is large enough to cover us adequately."

"I just bet you'd like to get me under there with you."

Paul puzzled over Fox's words for a long moment then smiled. "Didn't you just say you weren't afraid of me?" he returned nonchalantly.

"I'm not afraid of you," Fox shot back.

"Have it your way. I'm surely not in any position to argue with you. Actually, I really shouldn't care one way or the other, but I want to assure you as the daylight fails you will get cold." He paused for a moment. "If, by some chance you do change your mind, I have a dry shirt and some long underwear and socks you can change into. Also, while we're on the subject, my friends gave me an insulated air mattress for my birthday. If you do decide to join me, I might suggest you put some of the saddle pads underneath you for insulation and padding."

Fox's eyes narrowed at an unexpected reference. "Your birthday?" he questioned

Paul smiled. "Though this body was not actually reborn on that day, it does say on my driver's license that my host was born on July 24th."

"You have the gall to claim his birthday?" Fox retorted.

"My friends did it for me and gave me a surprise party. Scott said the party made it an official gift and it seemed natural to accept it." Paul's eyes danced at the memory. "I enjoyed the party very much and got many other gifts too." He awaited a response, but when none seemed forthcoming from his captor, he rolled onto his side once again. "Mr. Fox, again let me suggest you not let yourself get too cold."

Fox looked at Paul suspiciously. "Do you figure if I fall asleep, you can overpower me and get away?"

"How could I do that chained to this tree?"

%%%

Roy glanced toward the lean-to. "Now I welcome making our camp well away from them," Roy announced. "We have plans to make."

"Dad, I heard the government agent say the helicopter was coming for him tomorrow," Kathy offered. "If we don't do something before then, Paul will be gone."

"Don't worry about a helicopter," Roy announced. "This storm isn't going to blow over for at least another day."

"What makes you say that?"

"An educated guess based on forty years of experience camping in these mountains," Roy returned with a grin. "As long as we don't have a lot stronger westerly wind to move the storm front over the mountains, the rain and dense fog will continue to hang around the high country. Besides, June mentioned an aching back several hours ago. Her back is almost like having a weather barometer in your pocket. This storm front is going to provide considerable moisture on the westerly slopes. On this side and at this altitude that means sitting in a cloud."

"Are you sure?" Kathy asked.

"Honey, only a fool says he can predict Northwest mountain weather for sure. My guess is we're going to remain sitting in the fog and I know choppers don't like to fly these mountains when they can't see. Past experience tells me Fox will have no way out of here tomorrow unless he chooses to take Paul on a very long walk."

"Do you have any ideas about what we can do, Hon?" June asked.

"First I want to ask how far you want to go to help Paul. I really question whether this jerk's warrant is legal and I've heard of the courts often throwing out cases because of improper warrants. In that regard, I suspect he knows he's skating on thin ice. Everybody arrested has a right to know the charges filed against him. For some reason this Fox doesn't want to say. He also isn't decisive about this being a criminal arrest or just for questioning."

A worried look on her face, Kathy looked at her father. "But what if it is legal? He said the government would stand behind him."

Roy raised his eyes to meet his daughter's. "If it is, we could be getting ourselves into a lot of trouble. We have to remember we're challenging a Federal agent. The Feds don't compromise on sentencing unless you're one of them. I'd say the question we have to consider - is Paul worth the chance we'll be taking? To me this Fox guy seems too pushy in his handling of the legal end of this arrest. Instead of simply showing us some paperwork and explaining his position, he resorted to the use of force. Law enforcement isn't supposed to act like that with citizens. We really have no way of being sure he is who he says."

Kathy grimaced. "If he would have allowed us to make an informed decision by telling us what the government wants with Paul, we might feel an obligation to help him, but being totally in the dark, I don't think we really have much choice. Paul is our friend."

"It's my understanding that a smart lawyer can get the court to drop charges when the police forget, or use illegal procedures in making an arrest," Roy offered. "I believe we have a very good chance to convince a jury of our peers that his unorthodox methods merited a challenge."

"He might have decided to throw us out of the lean-to because he feels we're a personal threat to him," June added, "but it struck me he just didn't want to give us a chance to talk to Paul. Just like Paul was ready to expose some deep, dark, government secret."

"That is when he told us to leave, isn't it?" Kathy added.

"Yes," Roy confirmed. "It was all right for us to take care of Paul, but when he woke up and could explain what was going on it was 'get out'. I really think, together, we can present a legal precedent to question whether any officer of the law has the authority to do what he says he can."

June grimaced. "No government agency would have open authority to do what he did to apprehend a fugitive unless Paul's got himself involved in some top security matter, or maybe some covert CIA mischief. If either, they'll surely promise anything to keep things quiet."

"We have to consider that might be the case," Roy returned. "Remember, for some time we've suspected Paul might be foreign and Fox did say he was in the country illegally. If push comes to shove, we'll have to leave any final decision on our actions up to the courts. I've never heard of this Federal Security Agency, but it sounds like it could be CIA affiliated. That would explain some things, because the CIA isn't supposed to be working within the United States. This Fox might be working illegally himself. Of course there is another side to the coin; Paul could be guilty of some serious crime against our country. I will say after working with somebody for a while I've always felt myself a pretty good judge of character. I haven't seen anything hidden about Paul. I really like him and was hoping he'd stay with us permanently." He paused for a long moment. "Well, what do you want to do?"

"I feel the same way about Paul," June confirmed, "and personally, I don't like George Fox. I certainly don't like the way he's been treating Paul. I vote we help him."

Roy looked at Kathy for a long moment, allowing her time to decide. "I have to think about Cal and the girls," she replied, "but I can't argue what you've said is true." She thought a moment longer. "Under the circumstances I know Cal will understand. I'm with you," she replied, joining a blind commitment to civil disobedience.

"Thank you Kathy, it had to be unanimous," Roy returned. "Now this is what I propose. Somehow we have to get control of the weapon, but this guy is going to be alert and I believe he is dangerous. Right now, instead of a war of words, we're going to..."

%%%

The Starman continued resting while George Fox maintained his vigil. He heard his friends going up to the latrine several times. He was also aware Fox heard them, but nothing was said and another couple of hours passed. It was almost dark when Paul spoke softly, "Mr. Fox, I need to go out again, and may I brush my teeth?" Fox responded as before, by unlocking the single handcuff shackling Paul to the tree. This time he did not hold him down. Cautiously, he escorted him to and from the latrine.

When they returned Paul picked up his duffel bag. He looked at Fox then hesitated. "My toothbrush is in a little bag I keep up near the top." With Fox's nod of approval he removed a couple of clothing items then found the small sack. Soon he had his toothbrush and paste in hand. He moved toward the fire pit, picked up a cup and filling it with water from the large kettle used to heat water when there was a fire burning, and completed the job. George Fox followed every movement with his weapon.

Paul replaced the cup then returned to the lean-to. He put his things back in the duffel and took out some extra clothing then put it by his tree to serve as a pillow. He neatly folded his raincoat and placed it aside in case he had to go out again. Laying down he snuggled into the sleeping bag and zipped it. When he pushed his hands out, Fox secured him.

"Mr. Fox, I would again like to mention you are going to get cold, but since you have refused my offer I am fully utilizing my sleeping bag. If you should change your mind, just wake me."

"Do you have any else you'd like me to consider?" Fox asked flippantly.

"No."

My concern about the alien trying to get away has somewhat lessened, now, Fox thought. It responds submissively, but with darkness coming on I am more concerned about Its companions trying something. Having It secured gives me a decisive advantage as It can't help in any attempt to overpower me. With a light breeze blowing in under the tarp and intent on remaining alert to any intrusions he retreated to a new place of vigil at the rear of the lean-to. He pulled his suit jacket and arms tightly around him body in preparation for what he knew would be a very long night.

As George Fox guarded his captive, warm in the sleeping bag and still regaining energy, Paul dozed. A full hour passed quietly before Fox finally had to cave-in to a growing reality. I'm getting so cold I'm beginning to shiver. I have to do something about it soon. The easiest solution would be to accept the alien's invitation, but I am determined I will not accept any favors from this creature. There has to be some other way to keep warm. I should have been thinking about this earlier. I could have ordered the others to gather some firewood. Now there isn't enough even for a small fire. What should I do?

Fox's rummaging through the pack boxes woke Paul. He turned in time to see him pulling out one of the gasoline stoves. By the light of several intermittently burning matches, he watched Fox attempting to start it. Finally Fox yelped in pain and shook his hand vigorously as another match left burning to long, got too close to his fingers before going out. In obvious in frustration, he heard Fox blurt some unkind words. As another match flared Fox instinctively turned his head to see if the alien had heard his outburst. He saw Paul watching.

I observed Roy's technique for starting the stoves often the past couple of days, Starman thought. He changed positions, ready to offer a suggestion. Fox read his movement and before a word left Paul's mouth, responded, "No, I don't need any help."

Paul sensed having him watch offended Fox so he looked back toward his tree. Soon he smelled a quantity of unburned fuel then saw the bright flash as Fox applied fire. Looking back, Paul cringed as he saw flames climbing up toward the tarp. The flames retreated from their flare when Fox shoved the entire flaming mass out into the rain. Reflected in the burning gasoline, Paul saw Fox looking at him again. After a brief while the fire flickered, and then died. Though he wanted to watch, Paul turned away when in the light of another match he saw Fox glaring at him.

As time passed, Paul saw the flashes of many more matches, but Fox's attempt at the second self-contained stove proved no more successful. With no more flashes, Paul assumed Fox had given up on the stoves and breathed a sigh of relief. Moments later he heard Fox rummaging aggressively in the pile of things stacked on the far side of the lean-to and couldn't keep from looking again, but smelling the fresh odor of horse, he knew Fox was getting cold. This time Fox had the five stiff saddle pads and was trying to cover himself. Paul returned to his position, grinning. He rolled his eyes, shook his head ever so slightly in disbelief and lay quietly.

Fox continued his vigil for intruders wrapped in the stiff, dirty pads. There are too many things going bump in the night out there, he thought. A while ago I think I heard a couple animals come into camp, but most of the time I know it's somebody from the other camp wandering around. They're not fooling me. At least listening for them helps me stay awake.

He turned toward his prisoner. I'm sure It's warm and sleeping again. I hate to admit it was right. I am getting cold ... really cold ... dangerously cold. These pads help some, but being so stiff, every time I move something to close one draft it seems to create another. He moved the pad on his left side. If only I could stop the breeze from coming under the shelter. Even though the wind isn't blowing hard, it's enough to go through my still damp clothes. They are like having an ice bag against my skin.

Moments passed. His upper lip pinched together in growing annoyance. I know It was awake when I got these pads, but I'm certainly not going to admit It was right. The last thing I want to do is have to accept Its offer. He grimaced as he answered the need to move two pads into new positions cutting off drafts presently pierced his lower backside. He sat quietly until another cold spot appeared. "How much longer until morning?" he mumbled. "I know I can make it, but I have to know what time it is. I can't see my watch because I used the last of the matches on those blasted stoves."

Mumbling into the darkness, he began feeling through one of the wooden pack boxes beside him. "I know I saw the woman with a flashlight in her hand when she got things out to make the meal. I don't think she took it with her. It just has to be somewhere in one of these boxes of stuff. I've got to know the time." In the second box, his hand finally found the familiar shape and he looked at his watch. "11:20!" he cried out. "It's still several hours until dawn." His heavy sigh was short lived as a severe shiver rushed through his body, ending in uncontrollable shaking. His face contorted strangely. I can't deny it any longer. I'm getting too cold. Damn! Why did It have to be right. George, no matter how distasteful it may be, you're out of options. You have to accept Its invitation. Fox grimaced as he gathered the horse pad and moved over behind the sleeping alien.

The movement awakened Paul. "Mr. Fox, lay the saddle pads out on the ground. You'll have to unzip the sleeping completely then work it out from under me. Before you get in, it will not help much if you remain in your wet clothes. The dry clothes are inside here with me so they're warm."

Fox followed the orders. Once he had the sleeping bag free, he retrieved the clothes, changed and pulled the sleeping bag over himself. Desperately seeking warmth, he moved as near the warm body as he dared.

Within moments Paul could hardly believe the cold emitting from the man. Tolerating the chill he refrained from making any movement that might alarm him. Fox has conceded on a minor point, he confirmed, smiling again. He has to get close. One thing I do know, being forced to do so, he will not relax tonight. Paul closed his eyes to relax and further rest the body.

Fox thought further about his situation now that he had to lie right beside It. By the time he finally warmed, he had made a decision about how best to handle his distressing situation. He sat up again and positioning the flashlight so he could see, pulled Paul Forrester's wallet from his leather bag. He noted the weight on the driver's license then removed a needle and syringe. Carefully calculating a conservative dosage, he drew the drug from the vial. He pulled the sleeping bag down, and then unbuttoned Paul's shirt enough to pull it down, baring a shoulder. He swabbed the area with alcohol from the second small bottle.

Awakened by the disappearance of the covering, Paul turned his head to look. He cringed, struggling as best he could. "Please don't do that!"

"You don't need to worry," Fox said. "I've adjusted the amount," he said reassuringly. "I'm not taking any chances with you or your friends. If you can't navigate, they'll have a much harder time getting you away from me."

Paul rolled back toward the tree as Fox plunged the needle into a fleshy portion of his shoulder muscle and emptied the syringe. Had anybody else been around, Paul's protesting, "No ... please?" would have been heard above the sound of falling rain.

Moments later the Starman again felt the flush of heat within the body. I must close my eyes this time just in case the drug might cause me to appear again. Now I must accept what I know is coming. Sensation disappeared.

_As before, in this drugged state my own essence will not sleep like a human. At home or in space such time is for contemplation. Still contemplative time is, of necessity, an elective state. After a short while within this body, I discovered I could impose a human sleep state upon myself and attempting to fit in, I began doing so regularly. Soon it seemed natural to answer this human body's request for uncontemplative sleep and within it I have continued to study the strange random dreaming that accompanies it. Now I find I cannot impose sleep. Under this drug's influence all concept of form has vanished and I am alone. This is total isolation. Fox is quiet and unlike yesterday, there are no voices, no conversation, and no arguments on which to concentrate energy. There is only mind._

_In the vast void of space I have always felt at home, but always there were 'friends', or much learning to occupy mind. Except for visits to other worlds and the brief visit to Earth, someone has always been there. Even the unplanned extension of the earth visit soon produced Jenny Hayden. Now there's nothing and no one. I listened to the rain for a while, but it reminded me of the sounds of the great ship and makes me homesick. I think this emotion in humans is known as … lonely, and it is terrible._

With home providing no peace the Starman unwillingly returned to thoughts he wanted to avoid. _All I seem able to think about now is Scott and our future. Right now neither appears very promising. Scott has not learned yet how to master control of his sphere and I know, even with all he has learned, he is still young. Alone, I feel sure he will not be able to avoid capture for long. Can he find someone to help him? I know Scott would be welcome with those who know of our situation; Liz, the Taylors, Antonia, Katherine, or even Arte and Naughton would welcome him. But I fear Fox will watch those who have helped us before. Will Scott be wise enough to avoid seeking out proven friends?_

_What does the government have in store for me tomorrow? They must recognize I have technological knowledge they feel they can obtain. I know I cannot provide anything they might use to endanger the balances of this world. It is forbidden. Will their scientists realize that ours must be wise enough to safeguard such technology before approaching an intelligent life form for the first time? I hope so._

_If I must die, what will they do to Scott? I'm almost sure they will never allow him freedom or any normal existence. In my world this time would be used for abstract thought. Now it is filled with a 'very human' fear of the unknown and it is impossible to stop the processing of mind._

After what seemed like an eternity, the Starman became aware of returning sensation. He slowly began reveling again in Paul Forrester's form. But he soon heard Fox moving around then a sensation of cold. _No, please_ he thought. _I think Fox is giving me another injection. He is, though I can hardly feel the needle. Does he plan to do this all night?_ He felt the slight flush of heat. _I'll try to impose the human sleeping state upon myself before the drug takes effect._ He tried. _Imposing sleep does not seem to work in my present situation. What little sensation I had regained is now almost gone._ Alone the darkness continued on, and on ... and on...

With the sleeping bag pulled tightly around him and sidearm in hand, Fox laid close to his celestial bedmate. Even if it has to be an alien, he thought wrinkling up his nose in distaste, I'm comfortable close to something warm. Laying here listening for things outside, the night seems endless. I have to keep thinking to stay awake. At least contemplating on the actions of the other three helps pass the time. I hear them around quite often. No three people have to get up that often to be normal nature calls. I think there's a cold war going on. I'm not about to respond to their presence and give them any advantage of knowing they have me on edge. What can they be planning? All I know is I must stay awake and keep the alien tranquilized just in case they have intentions of trying to help It during the night. He frowned deeply. With this rain I sure hope the helicopter can come in for us tomorrow. Another day of this tension I really don't need.

########################################

Roy awoke at dawn's first light. The heavy rain has quit, he thought, and so has the wind. As he stuck his head out of the sleeping bag, he smiled broadly. This heavy fog, however, delights me. I can't see more than ten feet in any direction. He walked out to check the horses. If I didn't know where I staked Monty and Red, I might have missed them entirely. One could easily get lost out here. It gives one an eerie feeling of being alone in a world of black and white. Burr found him and followed as he moved Monty to a new location. He caught Burr and let Red loose. On the way back into camp he picked up some chunks of firewood he had gathered before losing daylight the night before, and then walked boldly over toward the lean-to.

As he reached the shelter, he thought, I'll just stay outside and get the fire started. There will be no standing or sitting around it chatting this morning and we surely will not be enjoying our usual casual cup of coffee while easing out the kinks from sleeping on the ground last night. Thank God for air mattresses. No. This morning's fire will not be casual. It's important. Clothing got wet yesterday on the mountain and we can use the indirect heat from the fire to dry them. He picked up some kindling stored under the edge of the tarp then moved to kneel beside the fire pit. Experienced with wet weather the fire-maker prevailed and soon the crackle of a large fire was the only thing cheerful around this morning.

He looked into the lean-to for signs of life and saw Fox intently following his every move. He acknowledged Fox's gaze with a nod then picked up the single gas stove he found laying outside. Noticing immediately the adjustments had changed he shook it. Finding no gas remaining, he refilled the stove, pumped it for pressure and set it down. After adding more wood to the campfire he left to fill the water kettle. Returning shortly, he found the fire burning sufficiently and placed the water on to heat. Catching Fox's eye again he picked up the stove. Stooping down, he walked boldly into the lean-to, turned one pack-box on its side and set the stove on it. After reorganizing the kitchen he stepped outside briefly to add more firewood.

June and Kathy showed up a few minutes later. Chatting freely they warmed themselves at the fire then June started mixing pancake batter while Kathy got out more breakfast supplies. Roy returned. Obviously under Fox's watchful scrutiny from inside the sleeping bag blanket, Roy removed and hung his raincoat then easily started the two stoves with matchbook matches from his pocket.

Grimacing, Fox got up. Reluctantly he put his warm dry body into his still wet slacks. He did not relish putting on his suit jacket, but knew he must, for the alien's shirt alone could not ward off the cold. When the wet slacks began seeping through the dry underwear, he decided to save the dry socks and pushed bare feet into his wet shoes. I hope it will not be necessary to reestablish my authority this morning, he thought, tucking his weapon into his belt. Having it handy does give me a feeling of security. He glanced at his silent charge. After a necessary trip outside, he returned quickly to stand by the fire.

How can Paul be sleeping with all this activity going on? June wondered. I think I'll wake him. Reaching his side she saw him twitching and glared at George Fox. "You drugged him again. You...!" The words she was thinking, she knew wouldn't make her feel any better so she decided to say nothing further.

Though still under the effect of the last injection Fox had given, Starman had welcomed the sound of voices. Being friendly made them better. _That's it June. Give it to him,_ he urged, ready for another contest upon which to judge winner or loser.

Fox looked at her without any emotion at all. "You didn't expect me to take any chances on you helping Forrester escape last night, did you? I heard you all roaming around. I would like to impress on you that I will destroy this prisoner before I let you take him from me."

June remembered the family's plan made the night before. We're going to worry him. Nothing severe, just enough to keep him worrying. He's really strung out and we're going to take advantage of it. We took turns getting up to go to the latrine. He'll have to let down his guard sometime. With three of us a chance to get the weapon will come. June looked at Paul. This arrogant man has turned our efforts to help on you. He never acknowledged us being around, so we never knew if our efforts were working. No matter what it means, personally, we now owe you our help. "I'm so sorry," she offered the Starman. "I feel badly and to me it makes no difference if you can hear me, or not."

As breakfast preparation continued, Fox studied the three. I think this might be the right time to test their present attitudes. I believe I have Foster's wife convinced any attempts by them to help Forrester will be met with more drugs, or a bullet. If she cares about this creature as much as it appears, she'll make sure they understand I'm in control. Cold war can work both ways, he confessed. Sometimes a well-placed threat can be more effective than an entire army. I feel sure I can keep them under control but I must be alert. Fox moved over to Paul then announced: "I think you've regained enough control to sit up to eat." He released the handcuff restraining him to the tree. "You can feed yourself this morning."

Breakfast contained a minimum of conversation and Fox secured Paul as soon as he finished eating. Fox looked outside. This fog makes it clear the helicopter isn't going to be landing down here so I don't have to ask to have the animals moved. As his unwilling hosts dried the last dish near the fire, Fox came out of the lean-to to address them. "The chopper will be coming for us about noon and I don't want to see any of you around here until after we leave. If any of you interfere in this retrieval, the one shot you hear will finish your friend. Do you all understand what I'm saying?" Seeing three nods, his words turned flippant. "Go catch your dinner and enjoy your vacation as if nothing has happened. By the time you get back, we'll be gone and justice will be served."

Packing some things, the three walked into the fog toward their bed camp. As they disappeared, Fox turned and spoke to Paul. "It appears they're convinced I'm in control. I don't believe you need to expect their assistance any longer." Paul looked back at him with resignation.

For the next few hours Fox kept a large fire burning. Standing close he made a concerted effort to dry his clothes. Checking his watch often he finally returned to the lean-to. Approaching Paul, he removed the handcuffs from the tree. "I think it's time we get ready to go meet our ride out of here."

"May I take my jacket and rain clothes with me?" Paul asked compliantly. "I do need to dress for the out of doors."

Fox shrugged his shoulders. "Okay, I guess there's no real percentages in bringing you back with a case of pneumonia." He backed away, keeping Paul covered and himself out of reach. I can't take any chances of It overpowering me, he thought. It knows time is running out so any attempt to escape must be made soon. Once I have It secured in the chopper, the game is over.

Paul got his rain clothes wrapped around his coat and after a brief struggle with the handcuffs, managed to tie them around his waist with the sleeves. He looked at Fox, "Speaking of pneumonia, you might take something with you too."

"Like?" Fox questioned.

Paul shrugged his shoulders, "The sleeping bag, perhaps?"

Fox's face contorted as he tried to rationalize the alien thinking about his comfort. "What are you doing, trying to take care of me, now?" he asked.

"No, I'm just making a suggestion," Paul returned. "Suit yourself. Since it's only misting now you won't need any extra clothes because climbing will keep you warm; but the moisture you create with the exercise will let you get cold if we have to wait."

Maybe I should listen this time, Fox thought. The pilot could be late. How can I ever forget last night? I never want to be that cold again.

Paul continued his offering. "Your clothes are dry now, but still inadequate and you..."

"Okay," Fox rebuffed impatiently. "I'll take the sleeping bag." He gathered the bag into something he could carry then looked suspiciously at Paul sitting not more than an arm's length away. He heard a loud voice in his head: Careful, George. Is this show of concern a ploy to get you to drop your guard? Does It still have a surprise or two up Its sleeve? You can act cocky, but don't get careless and forget procedure. "Lie down on your stomach and stretch," he ordered. As Paul complied, Fox unlocked the handcuffs and pulled Paul's arms up behind and secured them. "There. Now get up. It's time to go."

With Fox's assistance, Paul struggled to his feet and stood looking at him. Fox motioned up the mountain with the gun barrel. Paul recognized Fox wanted him to go ahead to start the climb. Now Paul felt more than a little discomfort that a simple adjustment would eliminate. He decided to approach the problem head-on. "Perhaps you might do me a favor before we go?"

"Like what?" Fox asked suspiciously.

Displaying his back to Fox, he looked over his shoulder, "The roll of clothing around my waist is pushing my arms too high up my back. I'm already feeling cramps in my shoulders. Would you remove the clothes and hang them around my neck and a shoulder?"

"Why should I worry about your comfort?"

Paul turned back to face Fox. He looked at the man piercingly for his arrogance then turned away ready to start walking wherever directed. "Never mind. I just thought I'd ask."

I believe this being has just made a personally derogatory statement about George Fox, he thought. I know this time Its right. It has asked politely for a simple humane gesture, one that puts me at no risk. I can't ignore such a request. "Stop and I'll fix it."

Paul stopped and stood unmoving while Fox untied the knotted sleeves and removed the bundle of clothes. "Thank you, that's somewhat better." He received no response as Fox knotted the sleeves together again and hung the roll around Paul's neck and left shoulder. He then motioned to proceed in what Paul knew to be an illogical direction to anybody even vaguely familiar with the area. "I've been to the top before, Mr. Fox. I would suggest we use the trail. Walking will be easier for you, and climbing like this ... for me as well."

Fox remembered what the pilot had said the day before about a trail and nodded. "After you," he said, motioning Paul to walk ahead of him. Feeling more confident following safely in the rear he put the weapon away as they started the climb.

The misting finally stopped, but heavy fog persisted, sometimes so thick it made following the trail difficult. Paul stumbled many times and unable to catch his balance in time when a rock rolled from under him, he fell down hard on his knees. As he fell, Fox backed away to safety and momentarily eyed him suspiciously. When he saw a continuing pained expression, he noted the reaction for further observation.

The impact of the fall also caused severe pain in Paul's chest and he remained down for several moments before he could take in a deep breath. I surely cannot complain about this pain, he acknowledged. It resulted from the revival procedures my friends used to keep my heart beating, but I wish I had my sphere. Noting Fox offering no assistance, he finally struggled to his feet and when able to proceed, offered, "Until today, I never realized how much we humans depend on arms for balance."

"We humans?" Fox questioned. "You're not human!"

"I feel just as you do."

"I seriously doubt that."

"Whatever you say."

After much struggling, they finally reached what appeared to be a large flat area. "This is close enough," Fox ordered. "We must be close to where the pilot left me yesterday. I have a radio and when I hear the chopper, I'll call him." In the fog Fox almost stumbled onto a large flat rock and decided it would provide a seat for the wait. He directed Paul back to it and gestured for him to sit.

"May I put my coat on first?" Paul asked as he glanced at the roll around his shoulder. He turned his back toward Fox requesting release from the controlling handcuffs. After the humbling experience at the lean-to it surprised him when Fox obliged without question. Fox stepped back as Paul went through the motions of putting on his coat and rainwear. He continued to stretch his aching arms and shoulders for as long as he could.

"Enough!" Fox barked, again remembering procedure. "Down on the ground." Paul complied with a sigh as Fox secured his arms behind again. "Okay ... up." Paul struggled to his feet and Fox escorted him by one arm to the rock.

Fox wrapped himself in the sleeping bag then walked over and sat quietly beside his prisoner. They waited in a foggy gloom. A long time of deafening silence passed before Fox decided to try to make conversation to break an almost imposing unnatural quiet. His eyebrows lowered then rose as he turned to look at his alien. "Would you like to talk some more?"

Paul turned his head and looked at his adversary. "As I said yesterday, under these circumstances I really can't think of anything constructive for us to talk about." He turned away to look out into the fog.

Fox sat quietly for a while then moved to another rock, leaving distance between them. He watched the alien for a while and almost in an expression of defeat, shrugged his shoulders. "You could ask how I found you way out here."

Paul didn't even look at Fox before responding. "The fact remains you did find me. At this time to know how seems irrelevant and serves no useful purpose."

"It could give us something to talk about."

"Something to talk about?" Paul questioned as he looked at his captor. A quizzical expression appeared on his face, "What would we gain?"

"Talking could be better than silence," Fox returned. "We each might learn something."

Paul shrugged his shoulders, "Okay, if you just want to make meaningless conversation assume I have asked your question."

I do want to tell someone about my success, Fox thought, but this isn't exactly the circumstances nor the who. What I want is to have General Wade confess right to my face that I was right. I'm entitled to some recognition, but this ... whatever, makes it sound like I'm making It ask just because I've finally prevailed. It's irritating, he thought, but I really want to put the intricacies of the chase into words. As the alien looked at him attentively, Fox started expounding on what led to the conclusion of over sixteen years of his life's work. He related in detail of seeing the article about a child's description of a doctor with strange powers and how he decided to check on it.

Little Tony, Paul thought as he lowered his eyes, he was the link that led Fox to us. I know, from having talked to Jim Billingsley that his father kept his promise. How could I have made a like request of a child? Suddenly, he heard Fox addressing him angrily.

"Do you want to hear my story, or day-dream!"

"I'm listening," Paul replied, half-heartedly as he again looked up at Fox.

"The story about the kid led to another about a summer school teacher." Fox paused momentarily, contemplating the implications. "I'm almost afraid to ask, but would you tell me what you've been teaching our children?"

"About the quest for knowledge and the excitement of exploration achievable through your space programs," Paul replied openly.

Fox frowned. "What do you know about our space programs?"

"Only what I've read, heard and seen firsthand," Paul replied. "I've tried to encourage their interest in learning and science."

"I'll bet you have," Fox said suspiciously, "but why and for whom?"

Paul looked at the intense accusing gaze of the man and again felt impotent to influence his pre-conceived judgments. "Why don't we just get back to your story? Isn't that what you wanted to tell me?"

Fox glared momentarily as he thought about this prisoner's insolent method of cutting off his questions. He regained his enthusiasm once he got into his description of the chase. It delighted him so much he almost forgot it wasn't General Wade he was looking at. "The search for the truck brought us to the farm where I got to talk to the reporter who wrote the story. She was snooping around looking for you, hoping to get the bigger story." Fox pulled a two page typewritten document out of his inside coat pocket. "I took this from her, it's a copy of a taped interview she had with the kid and his family." Fox held the document up for Paul to read. It amazed him how quickly Paul motioned to change pages and again when he indicated completion. Fox folded the papers carefully and returned them to his pocket. "You're a fast reader," he said flippantly.

When Paul did not respond to his observation, Fox felt a need to comment further on the interview. "It made kind of interesting reading, didn't it?" He saw little response. "Tell me, how did you convince the old man you were a doctor?" He paused awaiting an answer, but noting only a puzzled and questioning frown on the alien's face, continued his assault. "How did you get him to convince the kid not to say anything about whatever it was you did?"

Paul grimaced. "Why would I...?" His words ran out.

"I already knew the child's story had to be a deception. How did you get a little kid to think you had helped his grandfather ... another illusion?"

Grimacing at the continuing accusations, Paul couldn't think of any appropriate response. He shook his head slowly and looked at the man with compassion.

This is satisfaction at its highest level, Fox thought. I can confront this creature with what I know has to be the truth of Its subversion of others. "Why don't you just tell me how you do it, and what is the significance of the blue light?" He glared at Paul for a long moment then realizing he wasn't going to receive an answer, smirked and returned to his recitation. He continued to explain the complexities of the investigation and search. Grinning, he chuckled softly as he told of the things gleaned from the Forest Service and finally locking up the area.

"I really had little hope of finding you," he said as his eyes did an elated dance, "but just look ... success, finally." Having already forgotten in his moment of triumph what had almost been a tragedy, Fox's face beamed. "If I hadn't found you up here, my associate, or the police, would have been waiting for you whenever you decided to leave here. One way or another, this time you would have been mine." Fox's expression denoted a look of complete satisfaction. "I'm certain you must be aware it will only be a matter of time until we find your son. He can't elude us for long." His expression was just begging for a rebuttal.

I can't see any reason to comment, Paul thought. I do fully recognize Fox and his agency are a threat to Scott. I also understand what this man's fulfillment will mean to me. He turned away, stifling back the moisture trying to form in his eyes. There was, again, a long period of silence.

Unable to handle the silence, Fox wanted a comment. I need recognition of my abilities from this creature. Finally he couldn't stand the silence any longer. "Well?"

Paul looked at him and his eyebrows rose at the new inquisition. "Well what?"

"I thought you'd have something to say."

"About what?"

"About what I just told you, of course," Fox stated with more than an air of impatience.

Paul looked at him questioningly. "Are you asking me to congratulate you?"

Fox's face contorted into a strange distressed smirk as he realized the alien did not intend to give him recognition for his success. "Then you're not going to comment?"

"Should I?" Paul replied, puzzling immediately over what seemed like a growing look of disappointment on Fox's face.

A brief period of silence followed before Fox realized the reality of his prisoner's situation and the absurdity of his request. "I guess you really have no reason to bestow congratulations, do you?" he said smugly.

"I guess not," Paul replied, cocking his head slightly.

There was another long silence while Fox continued to stare and Paul could sense from his look that Fox really did want to talk. He raised both eyebrows as he turned back to look at him. "Do you have another question you want me to ask?

Fox's eyes narrowed as he looked at what was becoming a verbal contest. "I figured you could ask or say something intelligent of your own."

"Since you profess to know everything about me, and how and why I do what I do," Paul replied a bit sarcastically, "I could ask you the same. So far, though, I haven't heard anything."

"So we reach another stalemate?" Fox returned.

Paul turned away from Fox's inquisition, resuming a non-communicative posture looking out into the fog. "I guess so." He thought a moment longer then heaved a sigh. In an effort to try to keep some conversation going if only to pass time, he looked back to Fox. "No. I do have one question to ask you."

"Shoot."

For a fleeting moment, Paul puzzled over Fox's reply. To me it seems Fox is obviously the only one presently with that ability. Should I ask for an explanation? Suddenly he heard Fox respond with a totally unexpected belligerence.

"Don't give me that innocent look. You tried that on me in Los Angeles and in a while you had someone helping you escape."

Paul frowned, at Fox's new accusation. I wonder how he can even think, while restrained to a chair, I found help to escape. Does he believe I'm that mighty? Doesn't he realize my escape was Scott's search for help and finding those willing to give it?

Fox glared in return then continued angrily. "You can forget the illusion crap, too. I can guarantee you that won't work. I will not believe anything threatening I see when I'm around you. That little trick with the fire engine made me look like a fool and I won't forget it."

Paul saw Fox's jaw set in a determined manner. I know a convincing illusion isn't possible because Fox has my sphere, he thought, but I feel a need to be truthful. "Mr. Fox, do not make the mistake of assuming any dangerous situation you see while I'm around is a creation. You might get a very unpleasant surprise."

"I'll surely follow your advice," Fox replied trippingly as he sat waiting for whatever the alien might offer. When nothing came, he smiled smugly. "I might have guessed, after confronting you about it, an illusion wouldn't be forthcoming." When his accusation again brought no response, he decided to break what appeared to be another stalemate. "I thought you wanted to ask a question."

Paul returned Fox's look, again slowly shaking his head. I must conclude Fox's reference to shooting has nothing to do with weapons. A reasonable conversation should continue and his last statement seems to infer I have his permission to ask my question. He looked Fox in the eye. "What are your plans for me?"

"I'm bringing you in," Fox stated simply.

"Wrong words," Paul said. "I'll try again. What I meant to ask is what does the government plan to do with me?"

Fox grinned then looked away from Paul's piercing look. "You won't be my problem any longer. I'll be out looking for others."

"I can hardly believe you've chased me as you have without some idea of what they want."

Fox remembered his promise to General Wade. "To obtain the funding I needed to find you, I agreed to deliver you to the military's table, so research and interrogation would be my guess."

Paul eyed the man probingly, "And Scott?"

"The same, I imagine."

"In total ignorance, you just agreed to deliver us?"

Fox's eyes narrowed and he spoke in a verbal tone born of pre-conviction and commitment. "Our government needs to find out what you're doing here. We must determine whatever we can about what we're up against so we can try to save the human race."

Paul gazed soulfully at Fox, "I cannot understand you or your government. Since our first approach to this planet well over fifteen years ago, your response has been hostile. Were we incorrect when we interpreted your space probe's message as an invitation?"

"I guess 'some' might have considered it an invitation," Fox returned.

Paul's face took on a look of pain combined with a deep sadness. "When I came to answer that 'invitation', you shot first, and then for some reason you felt you must 'have' me for there to be communication." Paul turned his body sufficiently to display his arms secured behind his back. "Even now, you don't attempt to talk to me in any manner that I can consider close to civilized." He frowned probingly. "You know virtually nothing of us or our intentions concerning this planet, yet you believe you have some right to use me, and my son, for research."

George Fox and a man from the stars now exchanged equally certain glances. To Fox the safety of the United States overrode all individual considerations. "You're damn right we do!" he replied adamantly. "I'm also certain we'll find out shortly what your intentions are."

"Don't you consider it sufficient evidence of our intentions when nothing has happened to your world for these many years?"

Fox looked back, tired of being on the short end of every exchange between himself and his aggravation. "Has nothing happened?" he replied defiantly. "Your half-breed is growing to manhood. How many more of them do you have out there in training to infiltrate and take care of the dirty work for you?"

Paul was aghast. "You think that is why I came back here? How can you even think I would train any child, let alone my son, to do what you're implying?"

"I would say your intentions are what we'll soon determine," Fox returned adamantly. "Aren't we entitled to that much from you?"

Paul could see there was no reasoning with the man. He took a deep breath. As he slowly let it go he closed his eyes and turned away from Fox. How can such hatred and distrust exist among the many good and caring people Scott and I have encountered since I returned? A deep silence resumed.

%%%

After leaving the lean-to, fearing the man might carry through on his threat if they remained in camp, Roy, June and Kathy left the meadow heading back toward the lower lake. The fog made route finding, even to the lake, almost impossible and after often becoming entangled in the thickets, they finally reached the lake. With only a knowledge of the area and a compass, almost useless in the fog, they fought their way toward the upper lake following, somewhat, the route Fox had descended a day earlier. Finally they had to rely on the only physically visible and reliable route, the stream that cascaded down the mountain from the upper lake.

%%%

Fox and Paul sat together for almost two hours before they heard the familiar sound of helicopter rotors chopping away at the air high above them. Fox took out the radio and called the pilot. "I'm ready for extraction. Pick your spot and I'll come to you."

%%%

The fog that would have graciously engulfed those not wishing to be seen made the timetable imposed on Roy, June and Kathy impossible. Still not totally sure of what they could do even if they reached the lake, they continued climbing the streambed. They were far from the large meadows below the upper lake when they heard the helicopter. The sound continued only as they struggled through loose dirt and rocks toward it. With the sound echoing between the mountains, it was difficult to tell for certain whether it had landed or was just hovering. The only hope of stopping the government man from taking Paul was if the helicopter couldn't land.

%%%

Fox heard the pilot's voice over the crackling radio. "Mr. Fox, is everybody all right?"

"Yes, everybody's fine," Fox confirmed, "I stayed with the people you saw."

"I figured you might, but I was told to find out for sure."

For some reason he could not explain, Fox felt a sudden surge of apprehension about the pilot's choice of words. "Why are you so late?" he asked hesitantly.

"You might say we have a problem," the pilot replied. There was a long pause before he continued. "The only reason I'm here at all is the Forest Service obtained special clearance for a high altitude fly-in after I convinced them you went in with no supplies. You just confirmed there is no existing medical emergency." He paused again. "I hate to tell you this, Mr. Fox, but you have to find your own way out."

"What!" Fox said in alarm.

"Somebody turned me in for flying you into a Wilderness Area," the pilot continued. "You told me you were on official government business and had proper clearance. The Forest Service shows no record of granting you or anybody else such authority. I should have checked with them myself, but you were in such a hurry. I did need the work and I guess I was impressed that you were giving me a chance to work with the secret end of the government. It was naive of me to take you at your word. I want you to know I had to answer a lot of questions or go to jail."

"I'm sorry, but it was urgent," Fox offered. "Believe me, I can take care of everything to do with authority."

With a worried tremor in his voice, the pilot replied. "Can I depend on your word this time, Mr. Fox? I'm on suspension from all flying activity and that's my family's livelihood. I have to appear before a committee who will determine whether I get to retain my license. If I'm found guilty, they'll confiscate all my equipment. Will you still assume responsibility for the fly in?"

I am totally responsible for the man's problem, Fox thought. With the alien in custody, a joyous department and General Wade behind me, it will be simple to keep my word. "Don't worry," he replied with confidence. "I will take care of everything. Just get me out of here."

"Thank you," the pilot replied, heaving a deep sigh of relief.

"I'm officially grounded until the hearing. This is the Forest Service chopper. Their entry permit says return to base immediately if no medical emergency exists."

"But I can take care of everything," Fox blurted. "Don't leave me here!" Fox could only make out a few words of some background cockpit conversation.

"It would have to be life threatening," the pilot returned. "I'm sorry, but we can't do anything about it. But if it's any consolation you should see what things look like from up here. There's no way we can land even if we had official authority."

"What would you have done if someone had been badly injured?" Fox asked pointedly.

"A mountain rescue ground unit is on stand-by to evacuate you if necessary." More cockpit conversation followed and the pilot returned. "We have to go. I do want you to know, the long-range weather forecast is not good. A large storm front is moving in from the coast and rapidly cooling temperatures are expected by tonight. If there isn't a radical change in the jet stream out in the Pacific, bad weather might continue for several days. You probably should make tracks out of there by the fastest route possible. At least get to a lower elevation."

"Thanks for the information. I'll suggest it to my hosts," Fox said despondently. "I guess I'll see you when I get out." Fox heard an end of transmission, 'out' and the chopper throttle up. Soon its sound faded into the distance. Suddenly his face contorted in distress. Fox opened the radio transmission key trying to resume contact. He looked up toward a faint glimmer of light through the fog as the sound disappeared. Lacking success, he mumbled, "At least I could have asked them to drop me something warm to wear and sleep in." Heaving a heavy sigh, he motioned Paul to his feet. "Let's go back."

It was past three when they arrived back at camp. Finding the lean-to empty, Fox directed Paul to sit. "I'm happy I don't have to evict them again," he offered, fully expecting no response. His prisoner did not disappoint him. "I figured your friends would be moved back in by now. I wonder where they went." He searched through the pack boxes for something to eat, finally preparing a couple cheese sandwiches. He got behind Paul and released the handcuffs so he could eat.

My shoulders are cramping so badly I can't move them, Paul thought as his arms dropped down behind. I must allow the muscles time to relax. He gasped as Fox impatiently pushed them ahead.

Fox noticed the evident pain he caused, but merely refastened the restraints in the forward position and moved away a safe distance. Handing Paul a sandwich, he noticed the prisoner's wrists showing definite signs of discoloration. The constant pressure of the handcuffs must be bruising them, he thought, but there's no relief I can, or will offer. He handed Paul a cup of water.

"Thank you," Paul said as arms shaking, he took the offering. Some time passed before he could raise the metal cup. Then he drank appreciatively. When he finished the water, Fox returned him to the tree.

"You can sit or lay, whichever you choose," Fox offered. Pushing the branches to one side, Paul sat against the tree and studied the man intently.

Fox found it difficult to keep his eyes off his prisoner and their eyes met often. I see the alien attempting to avoid pressure on those bruises by holding Its hands close together. This is the third time in as many hours that I have observed this creature in obvious pain. They exchanged another glance. The look on Its face does bother me, though. There's no animosity, only a look of resignation. I'll never forget Mark Shermin's smug look as he blew that cigar smoke in my face. Shermin deserved everything he got.

Thoughts from the past continued to come to mind before he looked at Paul again. Could that look be what Shermin described when the police had It cornered in Winslow? He frowned deeply. What was it Shermin said finally made him decide to let It go? His eyebrows raised suddenly. Yes. 'The alien knew he was trapped, but he just smiled at me'. Fox's eyes narrowed again. Now what made me think of that? Glancing again at Paul, he thought with pleasure, well It isn't smiling now. It obviously knows better than to try that with me. He turned away from the Starman's return scrutiny.

Paul finally decided to give up his study. Laying down he settled into one of the presently comfortable positions available and turned his back on his tormentor.

Fox, alert to any movements, watched Paul adjusting his position. It knows for sure I'm going to hand It over to the military scientists, he thought. He cocked his head a little. I wonder exactly what they have planned.

%%%

Finally finding the meadows, Roy, June and Kathy moved cautiously from one clearing to the next. No longer hearing the helicopter, they still felt caution to be the best policy for it might have shut down. The fog had lifted briefly from the mountain. As they emerged into the large meadow below the upper lake they saw no one. "It looks like we must move forward with Plan B," Roy offered. "Let's get back to camp and get out of here as soon as possible."

"Our first priority is to get Scott to a safe place," Kathy confirmed. "Then we'll contact the media and every government watchdog group we can think of who might listen to our grievances."

"We'd better find an attorney," June added. "One willing to file charges against this government agent, his agency and the President of United States of America, if necessary. We'll keep Scott hidden until we find out what Paul has done, and then do whatever we can to help."

"I think the media remains our best shot," Kathy said. "In many ways it has become the police force of government. Probing reporters seem to have ways of embarrassing public officials enough to cause an investigation into bureaucratic cover-ups. Make enough waves and even our government finally has to listen."

%%%

Fox, gazing at Paul's back, thought again of the night before and suddenly he felt a need for answers. He poked Paul in the back to get his attention. "Before you go to sleep ... or whatever it is you do, can I ask you something?"

Paul turned enough to look over his shoulder, and then shrugged, and carefully inched himself up to a sitting position. Finding a position in which he could sit comfortably, he turned toward Fox and using Fox's expression of earlier, mimicked the word and inflection. "Shoot?"

Fox frowned slightly. Is that an alien attempt at humor, or sarcasm, he thought. I don't want to argue; I want an answer. "Last night, why did you offer me your clothes and a share of your sleeping bag?"

Paul's eyebrows rose then lowered. "Why are you bothering to ask now?"

"Because I want to know."

"Why," Paul returned, "so you can turn a gesture any human being should have made into something subversive? That's what you've done with everything else I've either done or said."

"No," Fox confirmed with dignity. "I don't understand why, under the circumstances, you should be concerned about my welfare."

Paul looked at Fox sympathetically. "While there is a possibility I might care about your welfare, I believe you might prefer to hear something you can use to support your own narrow perspective. Maybe I will answer your question by saying, in my ... situation', I realized you could have taken anything you wished from me."

"Is that it?" Fox replied, a puzzled look on his face. "You were trying to make brownie points with me?"

Paul's eyebrows rose again at another unfamiliar expression. I assume this to be another saying, but I must question these unfamiliar words. "Brownie points?"

"Don't give me that innocent look again," Fox said vehemently. "I believe you're about as innocent as a Simon Lagree."

Paul remembered the exchange with Dale Taylor over Solomon. In the book in a drawer at the hotel in Seattle I read about the man, Solomon, being a great Earth leader of long ago. With George Fox I do not want a similar uninformed exchange. "Tell me about a simon lagree?" he asked. "I do not want to confess to being like someone, or something, I know nothing about."

In his mind Fox suddenly questioned his earlier pre-judgment. If I have the time frame correlated correctly, he thought, It's only been back here for less than a year. Perhaps It is asking a question because It doesn't understand. He studied the look on the alien's face and his eyes narrowed. "With the command you have of our language, I surmised you must do a lot of reading."

"I do enjoy learning language and read a great deal," Paul confirmed. "I learn much by reading, but most things I must learn in day to day living. In a conversation, if I do not understand, I must ask."

"Haven't you read any American Literature?" Fox asked bluntly.

Paul's eyes widened. "Is simon legree American Literature?"

Fox's mouth contorted in distress. "How do you always manage to change the subject?" he retorted. "I really don't want to get into this with you. I'm certainly not in any mood to start explaining America's literature to a ... whatever you are."

"I'm not a, 'whatever'!" Paul returned emphatically. "I am a 'somebody' just as you are a somebody."

The forcefulness of the response startled Fox. I have rarely seen evidence of much belligerence from this alien. Still, I'm in no mood to defend my statements or use of language. "Just forget I asked about last night!" he snorted angrily. His thoughts and demands now returned to another question that continued to eat at him. "What I do want to ask is what you do to people that always makes them want to help you?"

"What do you mean?" Paul questioned curiously.

Fox gestured toward the camp. "I mean, like these people. Even when threatened, they have cared for and defended you without question. It's the same story with all the others."

Paul broke into a smile. "All the others."

"Almost without exception," Fox returned truthfully, "and that just isn't natural. Until I found out about your contact with the Billingsleys, I only briefly considered that the Taylor family might also have been involved in your escape." Fox looked Paul right in the eye. "When I read the child's, and Billingsley's, description in the reporter's interview, it left no doubt in my mind the woman with you must have been Ellen Taylor. Now I know they were up to their eyebrows in your escape." Fox's eyes narrowed. "How much do they know about you?"

"I told them everything before Scott and I left."

"Why?" Fox queried.

"I had to give them a choice of possible actions available to them."

Fox frowned. "And still they let you walk away?"

"Yes," Paul replied softly.

"You know, I could have that whole family arrested and put away for a long time for helping you."

Starman looked thoughtfully at Fox. Have I put friends in danger by accepting help? I never thought about what could happen to those who had helped us before. "You could?" he asked.

"Haven't you ever read about the penalties for aiding and abetting fugitives?"

"Many of your laws confuse me." Again Paul's eyebrows rose. "But you said you could have them arrested. You haven't?"

"No."

"Why not."

"Because disappearing citizens can raise questions I don't want to have to answer. If a government official confirms the presence of aliens being here, it could result in mass hysteria. We want to avoid that. If your contacts haven't expressed knowledge of you openly, or threatened anything that would breach national security, I have assumed they probably don't know. Believe me, my field operatives are busy watching them. So far, when interrogated, no one has openly indicated they know anything unusual about anything. To take them in now would be totally after the fact and the paperwork involved in the arrests would be a waste of valuable time. My major goal has been to get you and your son, thus eliminating two problems and would leave me ready to seek out any others." Fox gazed curiously at Paul for a long moment. "Those who I feel might know the truth also have continued to support you." Fox's curiosity changed to one of probing frustration. "Why do they help you? They must be aware of the risks they're taking."

"Perhaps they maintain open minds and see something you refuse to," Paul returned.

"Like what?" Fox questioned probingly.

Paul's eyebrows rose in two graceful arcs. "Perhaps the truth?"

"The truth! Why won't you tell me the truth? Why do you keep beating around the bush? Do you figure I'm too smart to be taken in by what you want to feed me?"

Paul looked at Fox silently questioning his words, but not wanting to irritate the man further, he replied quietly. "Truth is obviously something you do not yet understand if you feel it must be explained."

Fox's jaw jutted out defiantly. "Why don't you try me?"

"Like you said only moments ago, I'm afraid trying to explain 'would be a total waste of my time'. You have already decided your truth, but in reality, truth is something you discover in feelings and actions when you feel verbal explanations are unnecessary." Paul continued to look at his adversary with a piercing, yet tranquil gaze, but Fox's look never faltered. With no evidence of a favorable response, Paul finally heaved a heavy sigh, "Never mind," he said rolling away from Fox.

%%%

Their disappointment total at the loss of their friend, Roy, June and Kathy hiked solemnly toward camp. Kathy walked into the lean-to and expecting it to be empty, did a double take when she saw someone lying there. "Paul?" she asked, rushing toward him. Immediately she became aware of George Fox moving to intercept her advance and stopped short. As Paul turned to look up at her, she saw the handcuffs.

Fox glared at her and pulled his weapon. "That's just about far enough, Mrs. Doran."

Right behind, Roy and June stopped when they heard Fox's ingratiating voice then looking at one another, each smiled. Walking around the end of the lean-to, Roy looked directly at Fox. "I figured you weren't going to get out today."

"The pilot couldn't come in because of the fog," Fox replied casually. "He did tell me the weather's expected to deteriorate and urged we get out of here."

"With our vacation ruined, we planned to do just that," Roy returned. "Did he happen to mention anything about a change in the freezing level?"

Fox frowned, seemingly puzzled by the question. "Only that they expect much cooler temperatures by tonight."

"I thought it was getting colder," Roy acknowledged. He looked at his watch and shook his head. "I think it's too late to pack up this afternoon. With darkness coming on, I don't want to get caught up higher where there's no place to camp." He looked at Fox. "We'll leave after lunch tomorrow. That will get us over Ladies Pass and we'll make camp down lower. May I ask what you plan to do?"

"I'm planning to have you take us with you, Mr. Foster," Fox replied with an air of authority.

Roy looked at the man smugly. "What if I refuse to provide my services?"

"It's not your choice. You are taking Forrester and me with you."

"I would have suggested that to you for, without proper gear, remaining behind waiting for a helicopter wouldn't be wise. Now you're telling me I have no choice?"

Fox winked his eye and tapped one finger on the side of his head, "You're really sharp, Mr. Foster." His eyes narrowed, "Right, you have no choice."

"Am I to understand you're hijacking my outfit?" Roy asked bluntly.

"You can handle the outfit, but I'll continue to give the orders. Am I making myself clear?"

"You're making yourself very clear," Roy replied, glowering at his adversary.

Fox expected an argument and without further prompting, ordered the three back to their camp. I believe they're respectful, he thought as they departed, but I know they wholly resent me assuming authority.

Paul watched Roy and June retreat then turned silently back toward the tree. I have no desire to talk further to Fox. I would prefer he have time to think about our last exchange before attempting another. The failure of helicopter transportation could be a blessing. Maybe I'll be able to get through to him … or perhaps an opportunity to escape will come, but at this moment I don't see much chance of either. One good thing is this body's metabolic system has brought my energy level back to normal. Though I really don't need any more rest, I think I'll impose sleep anyway. Sleeping seems to make time go faster and is also a good excuse for silence. He heaved a sigh. Always 'one day at a time'. He looked at the young, struggling tree that had unwilling become a convenient jailer, and then closed his eyes.

A state of deafening silence again flooded the shelter. Damn, Fox thought. Why did they have to come back right then? They interrupted the conversation and I really wanted to probe further. When I got rid of them It tuned me out completely. Now It seems to have dropped off to sleep again. Of course, maybe It's not sleeping at all ... maybe It's listening ... perhaps trying to make some assessment of my weaknesses. He looked with disgust over at what he knew he would have to accept as his bed companion for another night and shuddered. He continued staring at the alien's back. In a short while his attention refocused as his alien began twitching. I think It's dreaming again? he thought with renewed interest. If I watch closely, perhaps I'll have something constructive to tell Wade's scientists when I turn It over. He moved quietly around to face the Starman, but by the time he had himself positioned to observe, the movement stopped. Damn, he thought. Too late. Maybe I'll just sit here and watch for a while.

"Ah ha," Fox mumbled softly. "Reward comes to those who wait". There goes the twitching again. Fascinating, and is that mumbling I hear? Brief moments passed. Now I see rapid eye movement, changing facial expressions and irregular breathing commonly associated with dreaming.

Many moments passed. Its physical movements are increasing sharply and becoming spasmodic. It's also mumbling more, and louder. He moved in closer. "I wish I could understand what It's saying," he grunted. Briefly his mind wandered. Hmm ... I wonder what an alien dreams about. Maybe he sees their spaceships lasering our defenseless and unsuspecting planet. Why do they have to be like that? He shook his head slowly. Could it be only for the glory of another conquest or only just because they can.

He watched with increasing interest. "The movements are becoming more pronounced. I think It's becoming aggressive," he mumbled softly. "It's probably giving battle orders in a war between worlds; taking slaves and without remorse destroying some budding civilization." He set his jaw tightly. "My observations will surely confirm my suspicions of an aggressive nature."

Now It's fighting against the restraints holding It to the tree. Fox's eyes grew wide. Right now this tree looks a lot smaller than it did yesterday. I wonder if it's even tough enough to hold It? I certainly couldn't uproot any of them when I was coming down the mountain. A couple of times I even trusted them with my life ... but I don't think I've ever seen anyone expending so much energy within the confines of a dream. His eyes still wide Fox moved back cautiously as he took out his weapon. Then he sneered as another consideration came to mind and he leaned forward, announcing defiantly, "Here comes the illusion, right? You've just been waiting. Well, it isn't going to work." His chin jutted out from a set jaw and prepared for anything he continued to glare. I guess my outburst hasn't reached It since the struggling is continuing. Now It's mumbling something else unintelligible. Fox frowned suspiciously. This aggression is definitely against something other than the handcuffs. Thank God the tree is holding.

Fox continued watching, almost mesmerized. Gasping and short of breath he saw the alien push forward with Its feet at the same time Its arms pulled It toward the tree with the handcuff chain. It's not pulling against the handcuffs now, but It's grasping for something. It's up in the tree branches like it was yesterday when It shoved me out into the rain. He saw one hand find the tree trunk and between gasps, Fox heard words now easily understood. 'I'm coming.' There's a look of anguish on Its face, he thought, and in a brief moment, It said emphatically. 'Please don't do this!'

The struggling increased even further. Now It's clutching the tree with both hands. I think It's trying to climb the tree. His eyes got wide and he crawled around behind the tree. My God, I think It's trying to break it off. He leaned back, and looking curiously his nose wrinkled. No, It's just holding on. He watched in astute fascination as the alien hung suspended by sheer strength, up in the tree as high as the handcuffs would allow. What is it doing, strangling someone? he considered. Maybe It has lost a friend in battle and is exacting revenge. Losing a friend serves It right for such aggressive behavior, he chided.

It's still struggling, but with little physical motion, Fox noted. Then he heard a fading, 'I'm sorry'. Gasping for breath and shaking, when the alien's eyes popped wide open, they were staring wildly at him. Is this where the chains break and It strangles me, he thought. A tremor of fear flowed through him and he leaned away, trying to get as far from the creature as possible. Instinctively he removed the safety on his weapon and aimed.

Paul, finally consciously able to break into the dream plaguing him, awoke. He found himself half sitting by a stressful hold he had on the tree and encircled by its branches. He gasped when he also found himself looking directly into the barrel of Fox's gun. Behind the weapon he saw Fox's face reflecting a fear as apparent as his own. Recognizing his surroundings, he let go of the tree and let himself slip back down then retreated back into the sleeping bag. Swallowing hard and afraid to close his eyes, he laid there shaking. Though I know it was only a bad dream it doesn't stop my heart from pounding. Sleeping in the human form, I dream as they do and occasionally the dream experiences become disturbing, but this has been the worst ever. He rolled his face onto his duffel bag pillow. One thing I do know, I do not want to talk to George Fox about it.

Fox's fears calmed as the threat de-materialized. At least It continues to respond to my control, he thought. I'm almost sure It can't get free. Now I'm just curious, he thought as he moved around behind the tree and parked where he could look the alien right in the eye. If I interrogate It, maybe I'll have something further to tell the scientists. "Were you dreaming?" he asked pleasantly." A long moment passed in silence. "My question requires just a simple answer," Fox said insistently. "I asked if you were dreaming."

If I keep my eyes closed and don't answer, Paul thought, perhaps he'll think I'm asleep again. I don't really want to talk to him. The silence continued.

Fox struggled to keep his growing impatience under control. "Do you dream?" he asked pointedly. Another question remained unanswered. You're not going to deny me my research, he thought, and his annoyance level rose decisively. "I know you're awake. Answer the question!" he demanded.

Paul opened his eyes to look at Fox. At least I can be grateful that he's in front of me now. Having to look over my shoulder to obtain eye contact pulls heavily at the handcuffs and my wrists are really sore. Turning my neck, yesterday, while restrained with my arms around the tree also has my back, neck and shoulders aching. That wasn't improved any by having my arms cramped behind me for several hours, today. But worse by far, twisting to look at him has worsened the aching in my chest. I must not complain again for that also seems to annoy him. Making only momentary eye contact, he answered, "Yes."

"I'm a patient man," Fox advised, "but for some reason you want to avoid explaining about what I just saw. Now, I'm seeking an explanation other than a simple, yes. Do you dream?"

I see that determined look again, Paul thought. Fox is not going to give up. He looked up at the man, took a deep breath then blew it out. "Normally we do not sleep or experience dreams as you do. We contemplate to fill time, not waste it."

"Well, from what I saw, I believe you were dreaming."

"Yes, I was dreaming, but it wasn't an alien dream, unless you mean alien to me."

"Let's stop playing word games!" Fox retorted loudly. "I think you understand very well what I mean!" A long moment passed before Fox regained composure following his outburst and returned smoothly to a smug pleasantness. Shrugging his shoulders, he offered, "I guess I just never figured you for dreamers."

"As you never figured I had to ... you know?" Paul replied, his eyebrows rising. "In this form I dream as any other human being."

Fox's eyes rolled then he paused, evaluating the alien's choice of words. It's a deliberate attempt to insinuate It's human again, he concluded. It isn't human and I'm not going to concede that point. Maybe if I try to show a personal interest It will voluntarily offer to tell me what It was dreaming. "This dream was a good one, right?" he asked flippantly

"No, it was not a good one!" Paul returned emphatically.

His words laced with sarcasm, Fox responded, "You know I meant, bad."

"Why don't you just say what you mean," Paul returned impatiently. "If you meant to ask if I had a bad dream, why didn't you just do so? As you just recently said, why play word games?"

"Never mind," Fox said impatiently, tired of continuing these contests of words with a being that appeared to be rapidly developing into an expert. "Why don't you just tell me about it?"

"No," Paul replied decisively.

"You keep insinuating you're peaceful and have nothing to hide," he offered, pleasantly. "You say I'm supposed to seek the truth. Well, tell me about what an alien-human dreams."

"I'd rather not," Paul reiterated. "It's totally irrelevant."

Now barely able to control his growing impatience, Fox's eyes narrowed. I have been seeking cooperation and by George I'm going to get it. "With some cooperation on your part at least we'll have something to talk about," he said with smug pleasantness. "I have noticed there are some things you don't mind discussing."

"Oh, you're not really interested in what I dreamed? You just want to create some more meaningless conversation?"

Now George Fox recognized a developing contest of wills. "You're twisting my words again. Stop it!" he demanded bluntly. "I am interested. Besides, I believe it might be your turn to offer some dialog."

Raising one eyebrow, Paul gave Fox a knowing look. "I wasn't aware interrogation was taking turns. This is interrogation isn't it ... or perhaps your interest is more research instead?"

Fox glared back, recognizing his adversary understood his motive. "Tell me then..." Fox's eyes narrowed defiantly ... were you losing your battle?"

Paul puzzled momentarily over Fox's question, before answering: "I guess you might say I lost."

Before Fox could control it, a broad self-satisfied smile appeared on his face. It has just confessed it was fighting and that's as good as confessing to an aggressive nature, he thought. His eyebrows rose probingly as he looked Paul in the eye. "Is that the reason you don't want to talk about it?"

Paul saw Fox's smug look and softened his manner. Trying to be evasive isn't working either, he confirmed. He remembered another of the many sayings June had used. 'You can catch more bees with honey than you can with vinegar'. "No. That isn't the reason. Actually, I didn't want to say anything because I thought you might not appreciate it."

"Sure," Fox returned with a sly grin, "but I really would like you to tell me anyway."

"Okay," Paul replied. "But remember, I'm telling you because you're insisting." Paul's eyebrows shot up. "Will my cooperation earn me some 'brownie points'?"

Fox glared at his adversary, aware it was also difficult to argue with something that seemed to remember every word you said. "Just tell me," he retorted. "Don't try to justify a response to a simple request."

"I do not consider it a simple request. I consider it a demand, and an invasion of the very basis of my being." Paul returned Fox's glare, and then softened again, repeating his raised eyebrows. "But I will cooperate for some 'points'." He observed the return of Fox's obstinate look. I guess mixing in some humor doesn't seem to be working either, he confirmed. Gathering and reviewing the still vivid memory of the entire dream, in a few brief moments Paul began narrating. "When the dream took physical direction, I could see light through my closed eyelids and knew I was lying somewhere looking up toward something very bright. I assumed it to be a series of lights for the brightness seemed in a line and centered above me. I realized I had been drugged, but my personal reaction was different than with yours. I could barely hear the voices of people asking me questions ... over and over. I concentrated on listening to their voices and identified two men and one woman. I tried opening my eyes for I wished to try reasoning with them, but found myself unable to move. I assumed their drug incapacitated this body in much the same way as yours.

"Though I have no recollection of the subject of any of the questions, I know I kept answering those I could and refused to answer those I could not. The three inquisitors did not seem satisfied with my answers, for like you normally are, their voices continued to become increasingly impatient and angry. I lay there, helpless, while they demanded what I apparently could not give. Finally I could not hear them anymore.

"I cannot guess how much time might have passed before I heard Scott. I struggled against the effects of the drugs and opened my eyes. I could now feel that I was lying on something hard and flat, but I still was unable to move. The bright lights hurt my eyes so I shifted my limited range of vision toward where I heard Scott's voice. As he came to my side and looked down at me, his shadow removed some of the brightness. I could see tears in his eyes as he looked at me and though I regretted seeing he had been captured, I tried to tell him I was glad to see him. Since he started talking while I greeted him, I don't think he understood me. 'Dad,' he said, 'just tell them what they want to know. Don't let them keep doing this to you'."

"Doing what to you?" Fox demanded, his eyes narrowing.

"I don't know," Paul replied quietly. "Perhaps, as with the questions, something was keeping me from remembering." Paul looked at Fox, accusingly. "May I continue? This is not pleasant for me and I would like to finish."

Paul saw Fox's almost imperceptible nod and regained his train of thought. "I tried to tell Scott I couldn't answer them for what they sought was protected by our laws. Still I must not have spoken clearly, for I saw no evidence of him understanding. Then I heard your voice. You told someone to take Scott away. I begged you to let him remain, but I must assume you understood no better than my son, or merely chose to disregard my request. He disappeared from my range of vision and you repeated your earlier threat; you know the one... 'We have other methods of finding out what we want to know'." Paul looked accusingly at Fox again. "When you said that to me yesterday, I could not visualize the reality of what such a threat really meant. In my dreaming human mind, it took on meaning."

Fox's eyes narrowed. "Come on, now! Do you expect me to believe you can remember a dream in such detail?"

"I remember everything this body experiences, including what it dreams ... in detail," Paul returned, his voice now taking on an air of impatience. "Do you want to listen ... or do we take turns?"

Fox's lips pinched together and his eyes narrowed. He took a deep breath, let it go and trying to appear objective, forced a look of artificially induced relaxation. "I'm listening," he replied casually.

Paul gathered his thoughts for another try. "I heard the woman tell you I was awakening. She asked what you wished them to do, to which you replied, rudely, 'Do you want It secured or do you wish to chase It around the room?' With that you left to follow Scott. I could feel the interrogators pulling at something fastened to my wrists and tried to pull my hands away. As they pulled my arms forcefully up over my head, I saw my bruised wrists still secured in your handcuffs. They forced my arms down toward whatever I was lying on and I could no longer pull them away.

"I wanted to see my son and from somewhere I found the strength to turn my head. I saw you and two others dragging him across the room. Scott was fighting, but how could he fight against three? Then I saw a table. Though much longer, it was like one I saw in a veterinarian's office. I assumed it to be the same as the one I occupied." Paul shuddered and took a deep breath. I saw straps attached to the table and you were lifting him onto it. It was then I began to understand what your 'other methods' meant. I yelled at you, 'What you're going to do is beyond the realm of civilized behavior! Please don't hurt my son! He's a child!'"

"I wouldn't do that," Fox interrupted, this time almost in self-defense.

"Wouldn't you?" Paul snapped back. "Though in different ways, you have tried to use my son before to try to get to me. You gave Antonia Wayburn your promise to leave Scott with her in exchange for me. I had to accept your promise because you had my son, but Antonia suspected you would not keep it. She fully understood how one lies and manipulates to get what they want." Paul continued to glare as he continued his accusations. "You also used Scott at a mental hospital to trap me. You may say you wouldn't harm my son, but I don't believe you. I'm sorry Mr. Fox, but I wouldn't put any 'other methods' beyond your moral and ethical values."

"What do you think I am?"

"I have already felt what you are. I felt, you, yesterday as I tumbled down a mountainside; I felt, you, again when my heart stopped beating and my spirit remained locked within a dying body. It was you I felt when I realized my son would be left with no one to care for him. When my body recovered, I felt, you again when I had to face my friends chained to this tree, and again when, you, isolated me. You treat me like a criminal."

"But what you have implied is torture!"

"I have not 'implied' anything at all," Paul returned, sincerely. "I told you what I dreamed. It is you who have called it 'torture'." Paul's eyebrows rose. "What I see, is from my description of a dream, you easily recognized a concept totally alien to me."

"I might do a lot of things," Fox retorted, "but I certainly wouldn't consider torture!"

"Remember, Mr. Fox. I have no way of knowing for sure what you, or your government, might be capable of doing to obtain what you want." Paul paused momentarily, looking Fox in the eye. "What difference does it make anyway? Dreaming of you as our persecutor, instead of some faceless stranger, may be because you have already threatened me with 'other methods' and have told me that for money you promised me to your military. When you fulfill that promise, your government will have all the essentials it needs to do with me as it wishes."

"What do you mean ... essentials?" he questioned.

"At present, two things. You have already indicated you wish my presence here to remain secret. Though a necessity to me in freedom, in captivity it leaves me no options. By not giving me a chance to tell my friends the truth, you supported that goal. No one will have knowledge of my actual existence or incarceration. Likewise no one will be available to speak for me ... or Scott if you find him."

"When we find him," Fox corrected, watching for the Starman's reaction. His face took on a look of deep satisfaction. From the alien's reaction I know it understands the reality of my words, he thought.

Paul, seeing Fox's look of satisfaction, paused momentarily then choosing not to comment, he continued. "Second, you have openly threatened to use force. With secrecy and determination to turn me over to your military, you secure for them the final necessity, opportunity." Paul looked at Fox, awaiting a response, but it became evident from Fox's look that an acknowledgment was unnecessary. "So I dream correctly?"

Observing the Starman's gaze, Fox's look softened. How close this alien's narrative is to the probability of Its future.

Looking for any positive response, Paul watched Fox for a moment longer then sighed. "Now I'll ask again, will you please stop interrupting? I assume your investigation ... or research, or whatever you may feel justifies this invasion of my privacy, can wait until I'm finished providing what you have demanded of me." Paul acknowledged Fox silently accede to his request, and he continued.

"I heard Scott calling out to me for help and I began to struggle against both the drug and the people proceeding to forcefully subdue me. I couldn't stop myself from telling my son I would help him, though logically I knew I could never keep that promise. 'Now are you ready to answer our questions?' I heard the woman ask. Again I replied, 'I cannot' and begged them not to harm Scott. I heard Scott call again. Against the very nature of my own kind, I continued to struggle to free myself while telling him I would help. As I struggled I heard you yell to the interrogators to get me secured and to make sure I could not hurt myself.

"One man was laying a wide strap across my chest, but with my constant struggling, alone he couldn't fasten it, so I fought even harder. He finally gave up trying and instead lay heavily across my chest to hold me down while the other two worked at restraining my arms. They pulled so hard I felt much pain in my wrists. I knew I couldn't win, but I continued to act 'human', by fighting for what I believed important to me.

"The weight on my chest made breathing difficult, but pulling hard with my arms and pushing with my legs I managed to move myself forward on the table. I grabbed for whatever I could. One hand managed to get hold of something ... human. I realized immediately it was some part of the woman, when she shrieked, either in fear or in pain. I held on desperately. My move forward allowed the other man to fasten one wrist tighter to the table, and then he pried my hand free from the woman and I grabbed again for anything. I think my hands found some part of the long white coat she wore for she still seemed unable to leave.

"The man lying on top of me received help from the other and together they fastened the strap across my chest. I lifted myself up and again using my legs, twisted around, trying to prevent them from tightening it, but the strap held. I felt someone grab one of my legs and pull it out straight and they secured it, and then the other. With the indignity a calf must endure in a squeeze chute if you wish to give it medical treatment, I was being totally immobilized.

"I could no longer get free, yet found myself unable to stop trying for I knew Scott would have to suffer for my inability to answer questions. I turned my head again and twisted as much as I could to look at Scott and could just see you strapping him down. 'Please', I yelled, 'don't do this'!" Paul stopped his narrative momentarily and closed his eyes. "He called to me again, but now I knew there was nothing I could do. I couldn't think of anything to say, but..."

Fox, caught up in the drama, frowned when he interrupted this time, "I'm sorry." He saw and interpreted another questioning look. "That's what you said just before you woke up." George Fox saw moisture in the alien's eyes and meeting an accusing look, he suddenly felt compelled to look away.

"Now, Mr. Fox, are you satisfied?" Paul, his composure restored, said. "Are you happy to know I can fear? Until I came to this world, I feared nothing. The danger of termination associated with space exploration, I never questioned. When I left home to serve on my ship it become a part of my very existence. Now, I have a child I care for, and I have learned to fear ... even in sleep."

George Fox looked at Paul with compassion. For a moment he wasn't looking at an alien creature. He was looking at a father who had just fought for his child. From somewhere long ago lost inside, the words came again, "I'm sorry."

Briefly, Paul observed a sincerity in Fox's look and returned it. "We're both aware you're only doing your job," he offered.

Now It's fishing for a mea culpa, Fox thought. I have no reason to apologize for my efforts in apprehending this alien creature. You need to find out what it really is. George Fox, FSA agent, returned. "Forget it, I really don't know why I said that!"

"I was hoping I wouldn't have to forget it," Paul replied. He rolled partially onto his back to look at Fox. "Was it really so difficult to say, just because you're talking to me? If fear is an emotion you desire I feel, please do accept my congratulations for, among my kind, fear is not believed possible."

Fox frowned as he saw this Paul Forrester's very human face framed between outstretched arms. In outward appearance It seems to possess the fears of any human concerned for an offspring and I am sorry. He looked again. George, return to reality! He chastised. Remember, what you're looking at, isn't a man. His jaw set firmly. This human body is possessed by an invading alien being who's presence here could constitute a threat to the entire world. You're not responsible for this creature's problems. "I really have no reason to be sorry," he returned. "Someone may have invited you to come for a visit, but no one invited you to leave your cross-breed," he announced.

"You are correct," Paul offered quietly. "Like you came here yesterday doing a job, many years ago I tried coming here to do likewise. Jenny Hayden helped me return to my job. During that time, in a moment of moving human passion I realized I had given her Scott. Earlier she had told me she couldn't have a child with her husband and in gratitude for her help, I surely shouldn't have offered her my son. Most certainly I should never have returned here to accept responsibility for him when he was troubled. He is only a part of me. He looked Fox in the eye. We have jobs, Mr. Fox, and are we not responsible for any mistakes we make when doing those jobs."

George Fox merely stared back. My, whatever, has just detailed what might have been a very human nightmare; one, I, will very likely fulfill. It says It had a job, and then came back to assume responsibility for the child that resulted from a moment of 'human passion'; something so many fathers forget. Is there truth in what It's telling me? He studied Paul momentarily. I can't give in. There are too many questions we need answered. Getting those answers is still my job. His eyes narrowed into a deep frown and his words were again harsh and demanding. "Tell me, exactly, why you came here?"

"You mean the first time?" Paul replied, adapting quickly to the change of subject. "I already told you we interpreted your space probe's message as an invitation."

Answering to Voyager's scientific package can't be the primary reason for coming to Earth. There has to be more, Fox thought. He became very agitated and his demand reflected his frustration. "First time, second time, third time? How many times, and how many more of you are here for us to identify and round up to save our planet?"

This is becoming increasingly disappointing, Paul thought, for he's defensive again. He heaved another sigh. "You already asked that some time ago. Can't you give consideration to anything other than what you want to believe?"

"I think about it often and I can see no good from your comings and goings, but deceptive infiltration and eventual conquest."

Paul's face contorted into a deep frown at the repeated implication. "So you think we wish to do battle with you over your planet?"

"Yes," Fox shot back with conviction. "That's exactly what I think, and believe me it isn't going to be easy."

Paul studied Fox's determined expression and decided to carry the matter further. He shook his head. "Mr. Fox, do you really believe if we wanted this planet we couldn't just ... take it?"

Fox's eyes narrowed to mere slits and he looked more determined than ever. "I can guarantee you the people will put up one hell of a battle for it."

Paul frowned. "If a need ever arose for such a conflict between our worlds, I don't think you could get many of your, so called, 'United Nations' to agree on a basic strategy for planetary defense. They always seem too busy fighting among themselves over petty matters like the shape of a table or posturing for an advantage in what should be an honest discussion." Paul shook his head slowly. "Even with all your primitive weapons combined, how do you think you could ever effectively resist an inter-galactic civilization desirous of conquest?"

Paul observed Fox's continuing defensive posture. "Mr. Fox, while I have been here I have learned much. I realize on Earth there are instances when you must defend what you believe is right. Just as important as knowing when to show authority or when to defend, is exploring options to avoid confrontation." Paul glanced upward. "From those capable of getting here, you must never assume conflict to be necessary. I would like to say that if, in some misguided belief you feel a need to try defending yourself from what you believe to be an invasion, you will surely extinguish many human lives. In such an all out battle to save your world, I fear you will destroy it yourself." Paul shook his head then smiled broadly. "I think, like my son, you have read and watched too much 'space' literature."

As Fox saw the alien's smile, he noticed the band aid still stuck firmly on Its forehead. He remembered the blood as the woman rolled It from under the tree enough to tend the wound. I'm pretty sure It bleeds human blood, but I'm also certain this isn't what It really is. I must show no sign of weakness for the rest of the people of this Earth. His face reflected confidence and bravery. "So you're sure we can't win such a war?" he said casually. "You think we should just roll over and let you take it? We just might surprise you for I can guarantee you we will fight for our planet. Fight to the last man if need be."

Paul shook his head, took another deep breath and let it go, speaking calmly, "You would certainly experience an unnecessary loss of many lives and I feel, I must repeat what I just said, you will do it yourself. Believe me if we came here with the intention of conquest ... you would lose. Technologically and socially you are still infants. Though I observe you still aim most of your scientific progress at destruction, after being here, even this long, I feel you show promise of a chance to succeed." Paul looked calmly at Fox, attempting to instill trust. "Now that we are finally talking about intentions and I sense in you a growing fear; before we proceed further in this direction, may I ask you something?" Paul saw Fox nod slowly and knowing the man expected a threat, asked simply, "Why should we want this planet?"

The question surprised Fox, but preconceived convictions do not die easily. "Slaves, maybe?"

"What for?" Paul grinned. "With the ability to cross the cosmos, you might expect we have energy resources capable of doing all basic work. We also have opportunities for exploration beyond your imagination."

"Expansion and colonization, and then."

"And displace others already here?" Paul glanced upward. "There are systems out there with planets infinitely more suitable to us than this one; planets with no life forms we could feel free to roam, explore and colonize without opposition. With so many that we could make over into an image of our home, why should we feel it better to dominate others?"

Momentarily Fox felt humbled. He shrugged his shoulders and changed his tone, nonchalantly defending the earth. "Well we think this is a nice place."

"For you, yes, but trying to dominate any aggressive or intelligent life form requires much effort and little benefit. In simple words ... wasted effort."

Fox's eyes narrowed, "you already said you have energy sources available to do all basic work. I assume that might include methods of controlling, so called, intelligent life forms."

"I guess we must," Paul replied, "but we have found if they have enough intelligence, though not always the case, they finally decide to control themselves. Mr. Fox, you're trying too hard to justify your actions by convincing yourself of the reality of something that won't happen, at least not from us. We have already determined you must evolve further to recognize your place in the 'overall' order of things. We cannot provide that direction. You must begin to work together and use your collective brains to make proper choices and 'earn' that place. My observations indicate a beginning, but you still have a long way to go. Actually at this time my world finds very little inviting here."

"Then what?" Fox questioned, his eyes narrowing with determination, "Will we become more inviting?"

"To visit, perhaps, but existing problems here will have to be resolved long before open contact will ever be attempted again. You must make choices and limit your species to provide for the benefit of other living things on this world. Yours is a successful and dominating species and it is displacing too many others."

"To remain successful we have a right and a need, to control our surroundings."

"The ability to see the results of your actions is what separates a truly intelligent species from others. The human mind is a superior and adequately complex unit, one capable of handling great quantities of information. If intelligent, you have a responsibility to use it constructively. Believe me, in the vastness of the cosmos the finding of any life forms, let alone intelligence, is still considered a miracle. Don't throw away your miracle for at the moment your species is the only one with the ability to destroy it all. To give it the respect it requires, you give up no rights other than continuing to act irresponsibly. While trying to be one of you I continue to learn and I offer you these facts for I can see your impact. Whether you listen, or not, is up to you."

Fox's determined look returned. "You've managed to change the subject on me again. Right now I'm not interested in world or cosmic survival problems. I've got a more pressing alien threat to consider. We were talking about your intentions. Let's get back to the subject!"

"I thought I was on the subject," Paul replied. "As I said before, you worry too much about threats that won't materialize."

"Then if you're not here to dictate to us and we're supposed to be growing up and earning our place in your idea of perfection, why are you already here?" Fox smirked. "You see what goes around, comes around."

Paul sighed. "I do not understand why I must keep repeating myself. I have already told you why I'm here, but I will say it again. I came to help the gift of life I left with Jenny Hayden ... my child. The same child she had to desert because of you. It remains that simple."

Fox frowned. "You're trying to tell me you gave up your own highly advanced world to come here to help him?"

"Does that surprise you?"

"I try not to let anything you say, or do, surprise me," Fox returned. "I simply can't believe it."

"The inability to accept the truth continues to be a basic problem with you, and I am sure with many others here. At times I feel encouraged for I have also met many of the human species, who, when confronted with the truth can accept it. These inabilities seem more persistent with people in power than the general population."

For a long moment Fox studied the being before him and a strange expression appeared on his face. "I'll have to think further on all of this."

Even though his situation seemed hopeless, Paul smiled inwardly as he met Fox's gaze. Two heads turned simultaneously at voices then they heard June announce a return to prepare the evening meal. Paul looked back at Fox with a highly controlled demeanor. "Mr. Fox, for my sake and for my son's future, I hope you do consider it very soon."

%%%

June peered around the end of the lean-to and when she saw a nod of acceptance from Fox, walked out again to signal Roy and Kathy to approach. As they walked together the last several feet, Roy said, "I don't care, Hon, I can't leave him lying there like that any longer."

"Just move slowly then," she replied. "Don't spook him."

Roy picked up the ax as he passed the fire pit and walked directly into the lean-to and over to Paul. Fox backed off, raising his weapon.

"Don't be alarmed, Mr. Fox," June quickly advised. "Roy only wants to remove a couple lower limbs so Paul has some more room."

"Move your hands close to you, Paul," Roy said, raising the ax.

"Don't try anything stupid, Mr. Foster," Fox advised.

"It's all right this way, Roy," Paul replied. "Don't take any chances."

"No, Paul, none of this is all right. I know it's against wilderness rules, but if this is the way it has to be, at least you shouldn't have to lay here with tree limbs in your face all the time." With two short, quick cuts, two short bushy limbs fell to the ground. Roy picked them up and took them and the ax back to the fire pit then joined June and Kathy at the pack-boxes.

During dinner preparation, Fox watched Kathy approach Paul and start asking questions again. It was satisfying to note that a simple glare silenced the alien. It isn't volunteering information so It recognizes my authority. I'm sure it's because It doesn't want to get them involved any further. I'll get It out of here if I can continue to control them. I think it's time I test them again, he decided. I'll free the alien enough to feed Itself tonight. I think they'll appreciate the gesture and I'll be able to get a better feeling about their attitudes. Stringing the handcuffs together he tethered Paul to the tree by one wrist. Feigning relaxation of his inward tension, he turned to Roy, making an attempt at conversation. "Lousy weather."

"The Cascade Mountains of the Pacific Northwest," Roy returned flatly.

Fox tried again. "Do you often camp like this?"

"Not often enough."

"Why not?"

"Too much work on the farm," Roy replied succinctly. He stood up and walked off.

Fox watched until Roy disappeared, and then looked at the two women. I think their responding glares to Foster's departure show me how they feel. Forget the conversation.

With dinner almost ready, Kathy chased after Roy and found him moving Monty. "Dad, what do you make of Paul's silence?" she asked.

"It's him," Roy offered, cocking his head toward the lean-to. "Watch him while I try talking to Paul." Seeing Kathy's nod, they returned to the lean-to and Roy approached Paul. "Would you like some coffee?" At Paul's nod he again asked what Fox wanted and Kathy confirmed Roy's observation when Fox interceded. The meal was eaten, together, but in a strained silence.

Fox continued to watch his hosts, noting they just got up and went about the business of cleaning-up with a look of silent resignation. As he re-chained Paul to the tree, his face contorted in disgust as Kathy and June again moved beside his prisoner. He again relaxed when he saw the women were lavishing attention on It. Fuming momentarily, he gathered his self-control and said nothing. Happily, he soon heard simple goodnights exchanged and they departed back to their camp.

Fox thought about what he had learned from his conversation experiment. Everything is going along too well. I am beginning to believe this to be the calm before the storm. Even though I can't be totally sure they aren't acting normal under these very abnormal circumstances, I don't trust any of them. I must remain alert to any challenge to my authority, for three against one isn't very good odds. The only good vibration I got through being together for the meal is I think they respect my weapon. As his adversaries disappeared across the meadow, he softened his look. I'm going to test this alien's attitude again as well. Returning his attention to Paul, he asked, "What kind of power do you use for your ships?"

Paul shook his head at Fox's sudden approach to such a technical subject and decided to further test Fox and government attitudes. "You must understand I cannot provide you technical information. It is forbidden."

Hmm, Fox thought. Pursing his lips and narrowing one eye, he looked back at the alien's calm forbearing. A negative response, as I expected. Questions regarding technology will not be compromised, willingly, he confirmed. Ask something you might expect It to answer, George. He thought momentarily. "Can you tell me how long you've been back?"

Is he actually accepting a 'no' from me? Paul considered. At least this question is something I can answer. "I had just returned when you found us in Seattle."

"Tell me, how did you get back here without being detected? I checked all the available satellite films and radar reports."

"You wouldn't understand the principles involved."

"Try me," Fox offered.

"As I just said a moment ago, I cannot..."

"Okay. Okay, you can't give me any technical information," he countered thoughtfully. His eyes narrowed slightly. In this situation, that doesn't really surprise me. I guess those questions are better asked when It's in the laboratory, anyway, but believe me they will get answers.

Fox thought he heard something behind the lean-to. He got up to check. After looking around, he started back, mumbling, nobody. I guess I'm just a little bit on edge, but it has given me an idea that could solve present and future problems with the alien's friends. He returned to sit in front of Paul. "I have an offer for you," he said with sincerity.

Bewildered, but interested, Paul looked up at him. "An offer of what?"

Fox motioned to the other camp. "From their actions, I'm fairly sure you have told me the truth about them knowing nothing about you. Tell them we have agreed on an arrangement for handling your legal problems and that you have decided to go with me, willingly. I'll..."

"I can't agree to that. It would be a lie," Paul returned succinctly.

"Hear me out," Fox retorted. "In exchange for convincing them with that little lie, I will promise to let them go on their way when we get out of here. In addition, if you give me your word you won't try to run off, I'll let you enjoy some limited freedom, let you mingle and won't give you any more tranquilizer."

Paul returned Fox's look with an air of certainty. "Just as I assumed, you haven't listened to anything I've said."

"I have listened. I guess I just don't understand what you're asking of me."

"I want you to let 'me' go," Paul announced.

Fox's mouth dropped open as he looked back in disbelief. "Are you making a joke?"

"No."

"You're the one who said it yesterday," Fox returned smugly. "You have about as much chance of me doing that as I have of you telling me where to find your son."

Paul looked at him somberly. "Mr. Fox, I realize I am your prey and I concede you are a very dedicated hunter, but you are hunting the wrong game. I have and will harm no one."

Thinking back over the years since 617-W, Fox returned the Starman's look. "I am a patient hunter, but one rapidly losing patience. I have an obligation to my country, and this planet. That means bringing you in for questioning. Even if I could consider your request for a split second, I have worked too hard to catch you. I have dedicated sixteen years of my life to this and been subjected to harassment from skeptics about there being alien life forms present here. Now you're trying to tell me it was all for nothing. You expect me to forget my beliefs, my job and my country with just a few words from you and let you go along your merry way doing, whatever?"

"It's the truth."

"How do I know that? Fox rebuffed. Look, my work has been important and I figure I'm entitled to some recognition for my dedication to finding out the truth."

"You would exchange Scott, and my very existence for what ... a few moments of personal glory?" Paul looked at Fox and grimaced. "We are to be sacrificed just to prove to someone else you were right?"

"It's small reward for all those years," Fox returned.

"Losing all those years is not my fault," Paul replied. "I have not been here for you to try to prove anything. Pursuit of your belief has been your choice. I cannot give back the years you have lost, no more than I can recover the years I have lost with my son," Paul offered compassionately.

Why is he critical of me? Fox thought. "Are you trying to make me feel guilty about doing my job?" he asked probingly, unable to take his eyes off his ultimate captive. I want to look away, he thought, but I can't. It has just accused me of wasting my life. Moments passed and he finally shook his head, breaking the eye contact. "What were we talking about," he muttered. "Oh, yes. Look, I've made a reasonable offer. Take it or leave it."

"From your point of view it might seem reasonable," Paul returned "but I could never agree to such terms."

Surprised at an uncompromising rejection, Fox's brow wrinkled. I guess I expected It to agree to anything that might provide a chance to escape, he thought. He looked directly at Paul. "You said you don't like being treated like a criminal. Making this commitment of cooperation could change that."

Paul's eyebrows rose with dignity. "You're right, I don't like being treated like a criminal, but I must accept it for I owe it to my son to try to remain free. Providing for Scott is my responsibility and one I certainly cannot do as an object of research. If I put myself into your government's hands, I know it will be the end of existence for me, and ultimately for him as well."

Fox frowned as he looked at his prisoner. "At least I have to respect you for your honesty," he offered. "I'm sorry, but we have too many questions needing answering. For that we must have controlled conditions. What I don't understand is, if you do not intend to dominate this planet, why do you fear talking to us?"

"Wouldn't you?" Paul replied decisively. "Apparently you don't remember my first encounter with your government was a craft which forced me to abandon mine."

"You should have announced you were coming to visit. Did you just think we wouldn't try to defend ourselves from what could have been an invasion from anywhere? Your unannounced appearance and over-flight we deemed a threat to the security of this country."

"If I had been allowed to land, I was prepared to reproduce sounds from the information contained in your probe. I even had the invitation with me to verify our acceptance. From the information you provided, I had no reason to believe an announcement to be necessary. If your probe indicated to approach with caution; as with my return here last year, you would never have detected my craft at all. Still, being an unexpected guest does not explain your later actions. When you determined who I was, you wanted to own or destroy me. Since you had no problem following me, my route across the country must have suggested a rendezvous. Why did you deem it necessary to keep me from leaving?"

Fox grimaced. What It's saying is true, he thought. The record was in the craft when Shermin brought 617-W into the Wisconsin facility. Still we didn't do anything wrong. "We figured you were heading for the Arizona Crater, but by that time we had to try to determine if there was to be a future threat," Fox returned.

"When we arrived at the crater to rendezvous with my ship, your final demand was for Jenny Hayden and me to surrender or be annihilated. That would have given you nothing. I feel certain you would have succeeded if not for the ship's timely return."

"Instead of kidnapping the woman and running, you should have turned yourself in to the authorities. With all the facts, perhaps we would have chosen to assist you in getting to the crater."

"Your 'perhaps', I can only interpret as a very vague possibility. Knowing that you have promised to deliver me for research and interrogations only convinces me that my chances of returning to my ship would have been no better if I had come to you, then or now."

Fox thought back. While I was still trying to absorb, cold turkey, what Mark Shermin and those scientific eggheads were trying to tell me about the principles of cloning, they started in on the possibilities of learning from such a being. Without even seeing it, they defended an intelligence much in advance of ours coming to provide help. I still can't quite conceive of them wanting to provide anything but trouble. Of course scientists always daydream about things coming easy.

He blinked several times and frowned. Still, I can remember how I felt when Shermin showed me the craft. I was awed by what I saw. The interior contained no switches or obvious systems to use for guidance and there didn't appear to be anything to support an occupant. Then Shermin pointed out projections extending from one area into the interior. Even I could see they were of such crystalline complexity Shermin didn't have to convince me we were looking at something not of this Earth. Even after all these years of technological progress into crystals and their structure, it still baffles all of our scientists with the security clearance necessary to take a look, about how it operates.

Shermin said he hit a place on the floor and a panel opened revealing a metallic box. In the box were seven small round depressions. No one wanted to even venture a guess about whether the box was functional as it was, or whether seven individual, 'something's', had been removed from it. The entire craft was definitely something to behold. Fox looked at his alien creature again. What I'm looking at and have been questioning is definitely intelligent. His brow wrinkled with a momentary consideration. This creature has traveled through space; something we aspire to do someday. He heard his prisoner continuing and his vision ended as quickly as it had come.

"I came with authority to make initial contact only. Your message showed visual harmony and good will from a 'United Nations of Planet Earth' seeking contact. If for any reason I deemed contact unadvisable, I was to look around and form opinions of your potential for progress."

"Look around at what, is what we wanted to ask you."

"We had no intention of answering questions and any assumption on your part and at your discretion, of a right to use me for research and interrogation is not asking," Paul confirmed gracefully.

"Would providing some honest answers to our questions be so bad?"

"Not bad, but out of the question," Paul replied calmly.

"You told me about your dream. Did it violate your position at all?"

"What I dream is a part of this world. It is my human existence drawing me pictures and sometimes expressing my deepest apprehensions. Besides, you know the extent of what I dream has no bearing on what your government will ultimately want from me. I see no indication they would be inclined toward believing honest answers, or accepting a 'no' any more than you. Presently you are the representative of your government." Paul looked at Fox with a pride of self. "You call it a representative democracy. I read in one of Scott's schoolbooks that everybody living in it is endowed with 'certain inalienable rights'. I am alive and living here and whether you wish to acknowledge it, or not, I am a 'somebody'."

"Rights are granted to its citizens," Fox rebutted without hesitation.

"Paul Forrester is a citizen and I look, see, hear and feel, just as he does."

"He did!" Fox returned without hesitation. "But you're not Paul Forrester."

"Genetically I am, lacking only his memories," Paul offered.

"That's another thing we need to ask you about," Fox retorted. "We consider stealing a body a crime in this country."

"When I found him, he no longer had a need for anything earthly." Paul motioned to himself with a gesture of his head. "I took nothing more than the basic structure of his blood from a sample no longer contained within his body. If you consider it stolen, the amount was far less than what one of your hospitals took from me without permission." Paul's eyes opened wide. "No one seemed to consider their stealing a crime."

Fox's eyes narrowed questioningly. "Then you're not using his body?"

"No," Paul answered decisively. "His body remains up on the mountain."

"That confirms what our scientists originally suspected. You used some kind of cloning process." Fox looked Paul over carefully then retreated momentarily within his thoughts. I am sure killing the body can stamp out their infection, but if they can continue cloning new ones from a small biological sample, how can we ever identify them? Suddenly his eyes lit up. "Ah, ha!" he exclaimed. "The cloning process would duplicate the entire organism, except memory and ... except ..." A broad smile spread across his face. "Now I know how we can find the rest of you."

"The rest of me," Paul puzzled.

"How we can identify and ferret out the rest of your kind here on Earth," Fox shot back. He reached over and pulled the sleeping bag down and vigorously began pulling at Paul's shirt.

Paul responded to Fox's probing by trying to move away, but being held firmly, all he could do was writhe at the invasion. Finally, still squirming, he looked at Fox in dismay, "What are you doing?"

"A better question for me to ask is why are you resisting?" Fox returned with satisfaction.

"Your hands are cold," Paul announced.

"Just lay still," Fox demanded. "I'll have my theory confirmed momentarily!"

"What theory?" Paul grimaced, squirming evasively.

Fox continued examining his distressed victim. Suddenly he pulled back and his eyes got wide at finding what he felt sure he would not. "My God!" he stammered, "you even duplicated the navel!"

Paul's defensive reaction to Fox's attack of cold hands ceased. "Not duplicated he confessed. That I consciously created." He smiled. "Though I had observed this non-genetic scarring in the material included with your probe, when I reproduced Scott Hayden's body I overlooked it. Jenny Hayden, observing the whole of me, noticed my omission and knew right away I was not really her husband. She told me about it on the way to the rendezvous at the crater and I physically included one as a part of this body."

Fox looked completely bewildered. "How do you duplicate a completely mature body?"

"As you said when I asked you about a 'Simon Lagree' and American Literature," Paul returned trippingly, "I don't want to get into this with you. It is of my world and there is no need for you to know. Besides, you wouldn't understand the theory or implementation of the process."

"Look," Fox returned, sincerely. "Since your first escapade here I have studied the cloning theories. You might as well tell me now, because sooner or later you're going to tell us anyway. The government does have ways of finding out, you know, and they'll certainly be easier on you if you cooperate.

"Are you referring to 'other methods' again?" Paul asked, shrugging his shoulders and raising his eyebrows. "You see ...to you 'no' is unacceptable. You feel your desire to know supersedes all my rights of privacy."

"We don't want to hurt you. We only want information about your intentions."

"You have hurt me," Paul replied. "I have learned here that hurt is not only the result of physical injury. To me your accusations are hurtful."

"Then talk to us!" Fox demanded, not giving an inch.

"I am talking to you, but either I don't know how to say things clearly enough, or you're not a good listener," Paul returned with dismay. "All you want to talk about are things I may not discuss. I know after talking to you, my assurances will not be all you will demand of me. I also know you will deprive me of freedom. The picture you have just describe of my future in your government's control, holds little promise that my life can continue."

"You'll never know if you don't try. Perhaps the decision will be in your favor," Fox offered.

"That would be highly unlikely since you are the government official in charge and they will probably listen to you. You corrupt everything I say into something threatening. You are afraid I will tell my friends the truth, so you send them away. Now, you try to bargain with me for their freedom to retain a secrecy that leaves me no options at all. Believe me, I do not desire everyone know who I am any more than you do. Disclosure would give Scott and me no peace either."

"There will be no peace until you talk to us!" Fox returned with undeniable certainty. "When we know something about what we're dealing with, it might not be necessary to hold you any longer."

"Meanwhile, you will be free to attempt to invade the very essence of my being," Paul announced with almost an air of belligerence. "Finally, pride will make it impossible for you to maintain secrecy. When you announce my presence to the world it will be too late, for common knowledge of my existence will not enable me to live here." He paused for a long moment. "Enough of this, for I know what will happen when that time comes. What I would like to talk about is possible alternatives. In the newspapers I read of a new United States policy toward aliens. I understand you have laws that grant to those not legally in this country a way to become citizens. Would things be better if I register as in immigrant?"

Unable to believe the question, Fox looked at Paul and his eyes rolled. For a long moment he tried to come up with an appropriate answer, he then frowned. "I don't exactly think you are what that particular change in United State's policy had in mind."

Paul's look was calm and calculated. "…Because to you I seem more alien than they?"

"Yes, I would say you are definitely more alien," Fox returned.

Paul's eyebrows rose suddenly. "You can see it?"

Fox eyed him. "Perhaps not," he replied, conceding. "But I know it."

"My friends don't know and they think I'm all right." Paul offered in rebuttal.

"I'm glad they don't know," Fox returned with satisfaction. "It keeps things simpler."

"It is simpler to lock me away some place," Paul said, his eyebrows rising. He could see Fox's answer without words, and continued. "Would it be all right if you didn't know?"

"I do know, and no, it still would not be all right," Fox snapped.

Paul's eyes opened even wider. "Do you have any special laws dealing with those more alien?"

Fox smiled with confidence. "I really don't know, but I don't think any of our laws apply in your case."

Paul's mouth contorted in contemplation before replying. "So because I do not fit into any acceptable 'category'; in your democracy where life, liberty and due process are guaranteed, I am to be denied all rights?"

"I think that just might be the case," Fox returned.

Paul looked sadly at Fox. "And Scott? What about his rights? His mother was a citizen and he was born here. Can all his rights be denied because of me?"

"That is a question that will have to be resolved at a much higher government level," Fox returned, evadingly. "Right now, I think it's my turn to lead this conversation. This is what I think. You're running because you're afraid of having to answer some serious questioning. That worries me and the government."

Paul returned Fox's look with one of certainty. "You are only partially correct, Mr. Fox. Yes, I fear your government's questions as I would fear those of any government. I do not fear talking to them as I do not fear talking to you about things I can." Paul looked at, and then rattled and pulled against the restraining handcuffs before looking back. "But I cannot, and will not talk to them like this."

"Very soon you're not going to have much choice," Fox returned confidently.

"Again, you are wrong, but that is something else I don't want to get into with you. I would like to say much of what I fear is not for me for I chose to return here and must accept the consequences of that choice." Paul took a deep breath and slowly let it out. "I fear for Scott. He is a citizen of this country by the process of normal birth and he has committed no crime. As a child he could not choose his father, but as a citizen he should be entitled to choose where he is, and what he does with his time of being."

"That all sounds grand and glorious," Fox returned, "but my job is still to bring you in; find out what you're up to and what kind of forces we're dealing with I am afraid Scott is too much a part of it."

"If you search for truth," Paul rattled the handcuffs again and looked questioningly at Fox, "then why are you doing this?"

"It's the job assigned to me."

"And that job is to bring me, and my son, into a laboratory for research and interrogation, even though I have done nothing except try to remain free as my world requires. I cannot understand why you choose to treat me like I am a criminal."

Fox set his chin firmly, evidencing an unquestioning conviction. "Because I don't trust you, that's why."

"Mr. Fox, I have learned that you possess little ability to trust. It is a general shortcoming on this world." Fox did not respond and for a moment Paul continued to study him, trying to figure a way of getting through. He finally extended his shackled hands up as far as he could toward the man. "Let me propose another approach. Hand me your parcel so I may get something out of it. Then I want you to take my hands in yours and look into my eyes for I need to determine if I can trust you. If you can allow your mind to clear, you may feel and see what I am." When Fox moved back Paul looked him in the eye. "Don't be afraid. I will not harm you."

As their eyes met George Fox glanced back trying to avoid the growing uneasiness he now felt. "Stop looking at me like that!" he said harshly.

"How can I look at you, without looking at you?" Paul questioned.

"I don't think I want to play this game," Fox retorted.

Paul could see only growing fear and spoke with a deepening sadness. "You can kill me with your drugs and chain me like a beast. You plan to take me from my friends like a criminal without explanation. You will deliver this body for research and feel sure your military will attempt to get what they want from me; but you can't take my hand in an attempt toward establishing understanding? Are you that afraid of me?"

Fox replied, desperately trying to sound convincing, "I'm not afraid of you at all," he snapped back giving the Starman only a fleeting glance.

Paul looked at him momentarily. "Mr. Fox, we both know better than that, don't we?" He waited, but received no response. "If you're not afraid, then look at me." Fox looked, but avoided eye contact. "Look at me, here," Paul demanded, motioning with one finger toward his eyes. "Can you bring yourself to try that much?" Fox turned away from the serene and probing gaze. Paul continued looking at the man. Finally giving up, he turned back toward his tree.

It sees I lack confidence, Fox thought and he turned defiant. "If you want me to trust you, why play these silly games?"

"I am not offering you a silly game. I am offering you a method of dealing with your petty fears."

"Why don't you just show me what you really are!" Fox retorted.

"I've tried!" Paul replied emphatically, looking at the man again. "You can't see if you won't look."

"Just more rules from home?"

"No," Paul returned with dignity, "I have already offered you a way toward understanding. All I conclude is you are not ready."

"Are you really that frightening?"

"Not if you have overcome prejudice toward one who appears or believes differently than you. I have chosen to show others and they have not been frightened. You must learn to accept somebody for their actions not on how you believe they should act. If they respond in a civilized manner, the form in which they appear before you is irrelevant. When you develop enough confidence to take my hand, look into my eyes and clear your mind of prejudice; you will be ready to know what I am.

Right now, I can only trust that by willingly, or unwillingly, going with you, my son and I will disappear into some secret facility and it will not be very long before you finish what you almost did yesterday on a mountainside." Remembering Dale Taylor's stories about the space program, Starman added, "Perhaps as with my prior visit, both Scott and I will become additional rumors spreading among your scientists."

"What rumors?"

Paul's eyes opened wide. "I understand I am a frozen specimen at one of your military bases."

Fox looked alarmed and eyed Paul suspiciously. "How do you know that?"

"What difference does it make?"

Fox's eyes narrowed as he returned Paul's look. "You did tap into the government computer network while you worked over in Wenatchee! I know you were at the Sheriff's office working on their system. How did you get the codes for obtaining such top secret information?"

"In the Sheriff's office in Wenatchee all I did was repair some crude computer hardware," Starman returned succinctly. "Now, I will tell you, I know and care nothing about what you wish to remain secret. Of course, I highly suspect you will not believe that either. In any case, does it really matter how I found out about the rumor, particularly since we both know it isn't true?"

"I guess not," Fox replied, heaving a heavy conceding sigh. "The whole landing was pretty hard to keep secret from the start. Unthinking, even I said something to the wrong person and the reporters quoted me in print. It was a major embarrassment. I had to leave my position as head of National Security and the government officially denied your appearance completely. Sometimes I believe they created this FSA job just to keep me searching."

He took another deep breath. "Nothing stopped the rumors though. I guess too many people saw you carry the Hayden woman out of the tanker fire in Colorado and even with a massive debriefing project there were just too many soldiers at the crater when your ship came in to get you. Information sifted down from one department to another of having recovered a craft and it was only a matter of time before the 'body' had to be added. Over the years it's developed into almost a legend at NASA."

"It is interesting how legends develop," Paul returned. "But now it is 'you' who have changed the subject. Let us get back to your request that I agree to go with you." Paul heaved a sigh. "After talking to you, I am sure in your care all 'human' rights will be denied me. Since your compromise stipulates I am to remain a secret it's obvious my incarceration will be the same unless someone deems disclosure as valuable to your government. Until then, I will be totally vulnerable. No matter what you decide, without freedom my world decrees I not be with you for very long. Now, as in my dream, I further anticipate ... no, I believe you will attempt to use my love for Scott to try to get what you want."

"I understand what you're trying to say," Fox returned, still trying to solve his problem with the alien's friends. "In the spirit of further compromise, I'll remain with you during all procedures."

"Why, so you can watch the research first hand? I can tell you now, I bleed, I feel ... and shortly I will die."

Fox felt a twang of conscience as he studied the alien's bruised face. It's strange, he thought, I don't think I really paid much attention to the extent of the injuries It received. I know the bandage is covering a bad cut on the forehead. I saw the blood and scratches on Its face and I think the right eye is turning black from colliding with the tree. I have to wonder how many other injuries must have occurred when It tumbled down the mountain? According to Its companions, I actually killed It.

"Earlier you said now that you have me, I belong to you," Paul offered with an air of indignation. "I repeat. I can belong to no one."

"That depends on your point of view," Fox replied defensively with a self-satisfied grin.

"The only point of view that really counts is mine," the Starman stated. Though his words were meant to challenge Fox, Paul's look remained serene. "Mr. Fox, I want to restate my position. My world enjoys the freedom of the stars and even if I could live for Scott, which I cannot, I can never live in captivity."

"You have to realize things won't be totally in my hands."

"They are now," Paul returned, quietly offering his hand again. Seeing no sign of acceptance, he finally heaved a sigh. "Even if the final decision was yours, your offer does not provide me any particular peace of mind. I must repeat; I can never give them what I suspect they will want to know."

"Look," Fox replied with an air of confidence, "all I'm trying to do is make a personal effort to get your cooperation and save your earthly friends further problems, it's the best I can do. If you're smart, you'll take it. Then I can tell them you are willingly agreeing to cooperate."

Paul sighed, momentarily closing his eyes. "I don't know how you can make such a determination. I don't believe you have accepted anything I've told you. You asked me what I was teaching your children. I told you I was encouraging their interest in science and you accused me of training them to harm you. I do honest labor repairing a computer system and you accuse me of infiltrating your secret computer network. I repair an injured man's leg and you say I have harmed him and coerced both him and his grandson. Why ask when you already have all the answers? You see, Mr. Fox, while I have been here I continue to learn. I have learned from you that I cannot trust some people."

Paul looked Fox in the eye again and his face reflected his skepticism. "During interrogation I will have to refuse to answer many questions. I am sure my 'no' will not be deemed acceptable leaving no way toward the furtherance of trust. You are part of your government and I must suspect they will trust no more than you. You see the ability to accept the truth must begin with you and must begin here, and now. For now, you must do what you feel you must, and I must do likewise. Our reasons for our actions and our ultimate goals are just very different."

Fox watched the alien turn away again. There is a final rejection, he thought. I don't think another chance at conversation will be possible unless I can do this hand and eye thing. Without a word, he crawled behind Paul and silently secured the sleeping bag over him.

For a short while Paul returned to contemplation of any possibility of escape. Seeing little hope with Fox's determination to hold him his thoughts returned to the unemotional simplicity of his own world where truth and trust remained the rule rather than the exception for some time of peace.

With the afternoon waning, the evening meal came and went. As the evening approached the temperature began to cool rapidly. Fox finally crawled under the sleeping bag before the chilling of the night took hold. For a very short while peace reigned until Paul felt another biological calling. He rolled as far as he could toward the agent. "Mr. Fox," he called. Hearing no reply he repeated his plea. "Mr. Fox, I have to go out." He was more than surprised when it seemed his movements and request must have startled Fox for he saw the man suddenly sit bolt upright. Fox's eyes were wide and Paul saw him draw in a deep breath of air and hold it.

Oh my God, Fox thought as he recognized his surroundings, I fell asleep. His head snapped toward his prisoner and he saw him looking his direction. It's still secured to the tree so I don't seem in eminent danger from the alien. He glanced out of the lean-to searching for any other unwelcome visitors who might be about. Confirming there was no one else around he finally let out his deep breath. Since talking to the alien and finding It unable to free Itself, I've become more relaxed with the sleeping arrangement. Did I fall asleep as soon as I got warm? I wonder how long I've been sleeping; a second, a minute ... an hour? I'll probably never know. It was careless, and carelessness I must avoid if I'm going to succeed in getting my prisoner out of here.

Paul continued looking at Fox. Even in the rapidly disappearing light, I saw surprise, fear then relief appearing and disappearing from his face. I must assume he fell asleep. I should try to relax him. "I need to go out," he repeated again. Without a word Fox acceded to his request.

Though still shaking inside as he waited for Paul, Fox considered his position again. I haven't heard or seen the others bumping around at all today. Maybe I've convinced them I'm not going to give them a chance to get It away from me, alive. Still I must be careful not to let my guard down again. I couldn't get any of them to say they would not interfere, so a threat from that direction is still a distinct possibility. I also know if the alien gets a chance, It is going to run because It doesn't trust me. Returning to the lean-to Fox rearranged the sleeping quarters while Paul completed his pre-bed rituals. Congratulating himself Fox secured his prisoner for the night. We're sleeping on the other side of the tree, this time, he thought. In this way I'll have adequate warning if they do attempt to free It during the night. I have no way of knowing how much anger they're holding inside or if they would actually harm me, but I must not take any chances. If left with no alternative, I must have time to kill this creature before it escapes again. That much I do owe the world. He moved behind Paul with his leather bag and drew the drug from the vial.

As Fox started to unbutton his shirt, Paul turned and caught Fox's eye. "Please don't do that again," he begged. "It is really very unpleasant to me.

Fox had to return the look and their eyes met. Feeling somewhat guilty, he hesitated. "I don't have to do this, you know," he offered. "Promise me you won't escape, and...?" He didn't finish the question.

"I can't do that," Paul repeated solemnly. Hoping Fox might reconsider, Paul looked him right in the eye.

Fox swabbing the site with alcohol. "So be it." He looked directly at Paul, paused a moment then gave the injection. Turning quickly away he emptied the syringe. How will I ever forget that piercing look? he thought.

Moments passed. As the Starman felt the familiar flush he tensed with the knowledge of what was to come. He closed his eyes as sensation began disappearing. _Mr. Fox, your drug excites my real self, and with no activity going on around me, under its influence I have no delineation of form. The feeling is terrible. It's like being alone in space with no frame of reference ... no guiding stars ... in total darkness. I wouldn't be so alone if I could keep the eyes open, even looking out into the darkness, but I cannot take the chance of you seeing what my friends did. Without understanding, you would tell your scientists and they would have something else for their research. Why can't I convince you to believe me? How can you be so certain yours is the only way?"_

Fox saw the alien body stiffen. I wonder what It does feel, he thought, almost sympathetically. He continued to watch. Thank goodness, the eyes are closed. It will not be conscious enough to look at me when it's time for the next injection. Soon the tension released and the body went limp. I wonder what an alien being would consider very unpleasant.

This is going to be another night of staying awake watching for trouble, Fox lamented. A moment later he heard it beginning to rain and soon the rain turned into another downpour. The long night continued. It's much colder, Fox confirmed a little while later. The pilot's forecast was correct. I have the alien's extra clothes on under my suit, but I still feel cold. I wish I had that hat the alien was wearing out on the mountain. I'm pulling the sleeping bag up over my head even though I won't be able to watch. Momentarily he sighed with satisfaction. Covering my head provides an almost instant sensation of warmth.

An unusually chilling breeze found an opening under his side of the sleeping bag. I must get up, he thought and he quit the warmth of the shared protective covering. He pulled the cover over Paul's head, leaving a small, unrestricted breathing hole. "Why am I doing this?" he mumbled under his breath. "Why am I being so considerate now? Is it because you indicated those people treat animals better than I've been treating ... whatever you are. What am I feeling? Guilty? Why should I feel guilty?" He checked the handcuffs then made a special effort to tuck the sleeping bag securely around the alien's hands. "I don't think I'm really sure." He looked pensively at the silent body and continued his mumbling, "Maybe it's because of what we talked about, but I'm not really convinced our exchange isn't part of a deception to make me question my resolve to bring you in. Above all other considerations I have to acknowledge, that tranquilized, you're totally dependent upon me."

He returned to his side of the sleeping bag. "This is nonsense, George," he chastised abruptly. "No matter what Its been trying to feed you while you've been together, the threat It represents is real. We must have the opportunity to interrogate It about their intentions before making any decisions. We need to find out how many there are before we can determine a proper course of action. Perhaps Wade will decide it's safe to let them go." Drawing a deep breath, he slowly let it out and shook his head. "You know better than that, George. It is too dangerous to allow such highly intelligent beings roam freely among the population."

Raising his head Fox looked toward his tranquilized charge and his face wrinkled in disgust. "The look you gave me when I gave the injection was like you were looking right through me. Stop it, George," he scolded. "Just don't look the next time. Just do what you have to and don't think of anything except a safety of your planet. You know what you have lying beside you isn't a man. It's a..." He grimaced. "I still have no idea of what you are. Why wouldn't you just show me instead of trying to bury me in all your rhetoric?"

He rolled away to separate himself and under the pretense of closing a minor draft, pulled the blanket further down between them. "Don't let It get under your skin," he mumbled. "Think of anything else." His thoughts raced forward to the end of the trail. "By tomorrow you'll be enjoying a nice soft bed. Yes ... and a hot bath, shave and clean clothes for starters. I'll really be happy when Wade's team takes over. My obligation will be fulfilled. There's still enough time to get my life organized like a normal human being. First, I think I'll take a vacation.

"Hmm," he mused. "Maybe I'll take that trip to Ireland to find my roots. When that's over there will be another assignment, I hope this time one that will let me take more time off." Glancing over his shoulder toward his prisoner, he chuckled softly. "Now they'll have proof of what I've been trying to tell them. Maybe I'll be able to get my old job at National Security back."

"Talk, talk; roll, roll; and stay awake," Fox told himself as he found himself facing his prisoner's back again. "Tomorrow I'll have you out of here and on your way to the UFO Center. It's going to be tougher than I planned. A helicopter ride would have been so simple, but I'm tough and I will prevail. Since you wouldn't take me up on my offer to remain for the interrogation, I'll be free to go home and forget all of this." He felt above his head for the comforting shape of his service piece. "All I have to do is stay alert until morning."

Another half hour passed amid a babble of wakeful trivia. "At least I can talk to you and expect no back talk. You know, you're lucky. At least you're getting some sleep." He wrinkled his nose and his face contorted as one corner of his mouth rose. "Wait! You're probably listening? You said the tranquilizer doesn't keep you from hearing." He glared at Paul's back. "... I don't care if you are listening?" His face contorted again. "The tranquilizer still doesn't explain how you could hear while you weren't breathing."

His words ran out again. He poked Paul in the back. "Do you hear me now? The woman said you had no pulse or heartbeat for almost an hour. What kind of thing are you that you could continue to live for that long with no side-affects?" He grimaced. He reached out and poking Paul again, announced almost belligerently: "You see, I'm not afraid to touch you." Fox paused momentarily. "What am I waiting for ... an answer?" Angry with himself, he rolled over and for a while silence reigned.

The Starman continued to listen with interest. _Even though I cannot always understand what he is saying, Fox's continual mutterings make me feel less alone. He must be having difficulty staying awake or he wouldn't be doing so much talking to himself. He didn't do that last night. It's interesting. He's directing his conversation to me, even though he knows I cannot answer. He's arguing with himself and beginning to think. Perhaps what we have shared will allow him to reconsider his position. If I see any signs that a more candid conversation might convince him to let me go, I will try when the next opportunity arises._

_In my present situation, I don't think that possibility exists because he seems unable to accept what I tell him. That still leaves escape my only option. He says he will kill me first. With his concern over more of us being here, I wonder if he would. I wonder if Roy, June and Kathy have something in mind. If they do they might likewise get hurt or into a lot of trouble as well. I don't want that either. I hope I haven't done that to those we've encountered in our travels. Still I have to think about Scott if a chance to escape comes along._

Rolling over and shaking his head, Fox puzzled over still unanswered questions and continued his monologue. "Why didn't you just explain how you made the body? After fifteen years of study I do understand the basic cloning concept. How do you do it and why try to keep it a secret? We'll find out sooner or later from the lab work. You said you used the basic structure of blood. Shermin thought it was a sample of Scott Hayden's the first time. How long does it take and how can you get the replication so perfect?"

Fox remained secure in the warmth of the shared covering waiting to give the next injection. "With you sedated and secured to the tree, it's easier to give the injections in your forearm. That way I don't have to partially undress you each time. I do have to keep track of the time though, but getting up every forty- five minutes appears to be adequate." He turned on the flashlight and looked at his watch. "Still another fifteen minutes," he noted. The flashlight dimmed noticeably and he shook it vigorously. "My luck, the batteries are giving out. They must be carrying extra batteries. I assume they're in the camping gear stacked on the other side of the shelter, but finding them is going to mean an extended trip out in the cold. If they don't have extras, I'm going to be wearing these out further. I'm comfortable now and I really don't want to get out. I'll look for them when I have to get up."

He waited for some time checked again. "Just a few more minutes. I'm really dreading this and it's only the third time." Fox's eyes narrowed as he tried to penetrate the darkness. "I think I heard something. I'd better stop this chattering." He shined the flashlight out into the darkness. "Nothing, but I better keep my head out for a while to watch for intruders." His eyes narrowed, reflectively as he glanced at his charge. "Every time I've seen It awakening, the first reaction seems to be irregular breathing; then the twitching starts. Why should I get up until I know the drug is wearing off? I think I'll wait." Hearing nothing further, in a little while he crawled completely under the covers.

_Fox is quiet, leaving me nothing to concentrate on,_ the Starman confirmed. _In a world of isolation, I'm so lonely._

As Fox's head met the ground it lifted again and he looked toward his prisoner. It's quivering, he confirmed. I guess I missed the irregular breathing while I was looking for intruders. This quivering is so obvious it would be hard to miss. I think it must be time to give the next injection.

_I believe I felt sensation returning,_ the Starman thought. _Now it's gone again. Fox must have given me another injection. This feeling of isolation is terrible._"

His duty done, Fox wrapped the sleeping bag over the Paul's hands again. Returning to his place he pulled the cover back over his head. Relaxed again, he returned to his wakeful mumbling. "The next time I get up, I'll have to remember to pull the cover back over my sleeping spot to preserve some of the heat until I get back. I do have to agree, the pilot was right; it's colder than it was last night. With the bag over my head I'll be warm and comfortable in a few minutes. Being observant has its rewards and not having to watch the time will save the batteries and a long time out in the cold looking for the extras."

_Fox is back to mumbling,_ Starman thought. _I never thought I'd enjoy the sound of his voice, but hearing any voice gives me the companionship I desperately need right now._

So a second long night of forced wakefulness continued. Fox continuously searched his limited world for ways to pass time. Beside sporadic ramblings with himself and his charge's silent form, he regularly began listening to the rain on the tarp. "Staying awake takes all my concentration," he confirmed. "I don't like this rain, but it is something on which to focus. I can concentrate on the staccato sound of large drops falling onto one corner of the tarp from the branches of the trees up above. I have created a game out of the sound. I compare the irregular beat of the large collected water droplets hitting the tarp to songs I know. It's a challenge to hum along when I get something familiar going, and then to try to make them complete the rest. When I get tired of that game, I can listen to the steady rhythm of the rain on the other side of the roof. How can it rain so hard for so long?"

After another brief period of silence, Fox began another period of babble. "At least when I'm not listening or arranging, I can carry on an intelligent conversation, even if it has to be a dual monologue. I'm glad these people have decided to leave tomorrow, but riding a horse in this continuing downpour I feel sure will be unpleasant. Just thinking about tomorrow gives me the shivers. George, you're warm right now. Everything will work out okay. Just take it one day at a time. I'm sure going to grab this blanket for myself when we leave here." The time slowly passed.

"Damn, there goes the heavy breathing again," Fox announced sharply and with obvious annoyance. "The twitching will follow. I have to get up again to give another injection." He heaved a sigh. "What a bummer it is to have to keep getting out in the cold." There was a long silence. "Why should I get out? Dummy, you can crawl over and stay under the cover." He did the job and returned to his place. "That was much better." His monologue continued.

After another extended time of listening intently for heavy breathing, Fox stuck his head out from under the sleeping blanket. "It still isn't getting light. I guess I'll go back to musical tunes on the roof. He adjusted his hearing to another round of diversion, but heard only silence. "Hey, I think it has stopped raining. This is great. Maybe the sun will be out in the morning and I'll get a chance to dry out." Happier, he continued to search his repertoire for more subjects he might review. The second seemingly endless night continued.

End Part 2


	3. Part 3

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Roy stuck his stocking capped head out of his sleeping bag, grabbed a flashlight and checked the time. The beginning light of the coming dawn was just revealing itself, but in the inner darkness of their shelter his eyes widened at a strangeness that seemed out of place. He crawled out of his sleeping bag toward the open end of their crude shelter then retreated. "Snow!" he announced forcefully, "Everybody up." Mumbling voices emitted from beside him and he shook a not quite awake, June. "Hon, it's snowing," he repeated. "If our shelter's roof wasn't so steep, it would have been down on top of us. There's almost three inches on the ground already. We're making tracks out of here and fast. Kathy, you start packing our stuff. Hon, you come with me to the other camp."

Having slept in their clothes, within minutes June and Kathy were out of their bags and grabbing hats and coats. June joined Roy in pushing warm feet into damp boots and they charged over toward the lean-to. "If we're going to make it over the pass before the snow gets too deep we have to get everybody working together," Roy urged. "This must be a hasty departure. We know the government agent is nervous so if we want to make sure our approach is evident, keep talking."

Roy immediately noticed the flatter roof of the lean-to sagging heavily under the weight of the snow. "The roof must be almost down on top of them," he said as they approached. Instinctively, he grabbed the edge, lifted the tarp and started flipping off the accumulation. "We've got a load of snow on us!" he announced emphatically. "We're eating a quick breakfast and leaving as soon as we can get packed up."

Fox, indulging in another monolog, heard voices. He popped his head out from under the sleeping bag. What he saw more than startled him for the tarp was almost in his face and shaking violently. "Here it comes!" he blurted. Responding not to words, but to what in his excitement became the much-anticipated attempt to take his prisoner. "They're going to smother me with the tarp!" Keep cool, George, he thought, and then he noticed he felt no one on top of him. He grinned as he retrieved his weapon. "The joke is on you!" he shouted. "I want you to know, It's Forrester you're attempting to murder!" He released the safety and aimed the weapon. "At the count of three, it's over for him! One ... two ..."

"Don't shoot, please!" June implored. "Mr. Fox, you need to get up right away," she said, finding it difficult to maintain any semblance of calm in her voice as she heard, 'thr... "Mr. Fox, it's snowing!" she shouted. "We have to leave, now!"

Roy's shaking of the tarp had thrown off much of the snow and the tarp had lifted considerably, but the small tree carrying much of the accumulation remained bent over to one side almost on Paul's head.

Fox, now visually able to verify her words, threw the sleeping bag onto Paul and got up. He had a firm hand on his weapon, but slowly lowered it as he looked around.

"He's aware of the crisis now, June," Roy advised as he saw the weapon lowering. "Fox, you and Paul come with me to help Kathy get our camp down. June's staying here to get something ready to eat. We'll come back here to pack."

"Forrester's still asleep," Fox announced, this time with concern. "What time is it?"

"Quarter after six," Roy replied.

"He should be waking soon," Fox offered. His eyes met the woman's angry glare. He shrugged his shoulders. "I'm sorry. I just don't trust you people."

They heard a muffled; "he's awake," coming from under the sleeping bag. Paul rolled over in the direction of their voices, but the sleeping bag held down by the bent tree, remained over his face. Paul used his feet to push the sleeping bag down and finally managed to get his face uncovered. He found himself again looking out from among tree branches. Scooting himself down further, he rolled on to his back and stretched his arms out further. Finally he could see everybody. "Mr. Fox," he confessed, "your drug doesn't last long while my heart is beating normally. I also believe I am becoming less sensitive to it for I have been awake for some time already."

"I paid very close attention and you didn't twitch," Fox returned.

"As the night passed I thought you might be giving the drug only when I began to react to awakening," Paul confessed. "You finally told me."

"Told you?"

"You said: 'Damn, there goes the heavy breathing again. The twitching will follow. I have to get up again to give another injection. What a bummer it is having to go out in the cold. Why do I have to get out? Dummy, you can crawl over and stay under the cover.' I figured if I suppressed the reactions and moved only a little at a time so you wouldn't notice. As anticipated you lost track of time and haven't given any more." Paul glared at Fox accusingly. "It is really very distressing to me."

Fox looked critically at what had been the still form lying next to him and said indignantly: "So you were playing possum with me."

Paul recognized 'possum' as short for 'opossum', an animal defined as, 'an American marsupial; marsupial meaning having a pouch for carrying its young, and the opossum, when...'Oh, he thought. That explains Fox's use of the word. 'When frightened,' the opossum 'feigns death'. "I guess I have been 'playing possum,' and I would 'play possum', or anything else I have to, to avoid it. Would you like me to describe how it feels?"

"You two can argue about it later," Roy interjected with authority as he looked at them. "Right now, Fox, I'm telling you to let Paul loose. We need all the helping hands we can get."

Humbly, Fox crawled over and released Paul from the tree. He removed the handcuff from one wrist, but insisted on leaving it dangling. To retain authority, he kept his pistol in his belt as a precaution against any move he might construe as an attempt to escape. Within minutes Paul was up and dressing for the weather. Fox backed away and with a look as cold as ice, reminded him, "If I see any threat to my authority from anybody, I will shoot."

Seeing helpless looks on the faces of his friends, Paul nodded his acknowledgment of the warning. The three men, with Fox struggling to keep his feet under him in the slippery medium, left to help Kathy break the small camp. Fox, ever defensive, always grabbed a corner or an item as far out of everyone's reach as he could. In twenty minutes the four had carried the sleeping bags, folded ground cloths, rolled air mattresses, and other loose items up to the lean-to. June was waiting with a breakfast of hot oatmeal and coffee.

While they ate, Kathy looked coldly at Fox then back to her father. "Dad, I'm assuming you're planning to have us all ride? What are we going to do with all the stuff? We can't put the pack boxes on Red and also use him as a riding animal."

"Simple, Kathy," Roy declared, "we take only what we need if we have to set up an emergency camp down lower. The rest we stash here in as protected a place as possible."

Fox looked over the growing pile of supplies. The danger of remaining here must be great for them to decide to leave everything.

"What stuff are we leaving?" June asked.

"Everything we don't absolutely need. Kathy's right, we can't hang the pack boxes on and ride, so pack all the unnecessary items into them, they'll offer weather protection for a while. In case we have to bivouac somewhere, take food and beverage for at least a day, a fry pan, a small pot to heat water and a cup and spoon each. We'll take only one of the gas stoves. I'll fill it with fuel right now. We'll need the large tarp for shelter. We can wrap the small tarp around the things we leave to keep them reasonably dry. Kathy, ... June, you start sorting out the gear. Fox you start packing the excess in the boxes. Paul, you come with me to get the horses."

"I'm going wherever Forrester goes," Fox demanded.

"Fine," Roy returned, slightly plussed. "I just thought you might like to stay dry for a little longer. Rather than wasting time standing here quibbling about it, you and Paul can get the horses." He turned and started sorting out saddles.

Paul grabbed three lead ropes and led Fox, struggling to stay on his feet in the snow, out to gather the horses. He caught the loose horses and Fox held them while he untied Burr and Monty and pulled the stakes out of the ground. As they led the horses into camp, Roy walked over carrying the packsaddle. Looking at Red, he cringed at his next thought. "Someone is going to have to ride this."

Though he had handled it many times in the shelter this was the first time Fox took noticed the construction. The two long boards must fit along the animal's sides and are held together by two wooden cross arms. The leather straps must secure it to the animal. Between the two boards upon which a rider would have to sit there is a wide split. That should be a joy he thought. Even in my undereducated opinion, there are no features I can see about this contraption to provide comfort to any masculine body.

After a few moments of silence awaiting a volunteer, June said, "I'll ride it. I'm probably just a little better padded in the right places than any of the rest of you. I'll wrap a rope between the cross arms to raise the seat and use a couple of the horses lead ropes for stirrups. Just keep Roy's heavy sleeping bag out. I'll use it to pad the seat." She paused for a moment. "Let me stuff it in Paul's duffel. That way the sleeping bag won't shift and since the duffel's waterproof, the bag will be dry if we need it later. Paul, I'll roll your stuff in another sleeping bag and you can tie it on behind a saddle."

"Paul, you start saddling," Roy ordered. "Put June's saddle on Red. Fox can ride him." Roy received Paul's verifying nod. "I'll be over to help in a minute. Right now I want to get Fox to work packing things."

Fox contemplated the strange looking contraption again as he saw Paul securing it on the black horse. I'm glad she volunteered, he thought. Since everything seems less tense now I'm glad I didn't have to make someone unhappy by insisting on a saddle. I'm afraid even with a saddle this is not going to be a pleasant trip. I haven't wanted to ride a horse since I was a kid.

Roy joined Paul after giving Fox some basic instructions about packing the things to be left in the boxes. Fox never took his eyes off Paul for more than a moment and was relieved when the saddling was complete and Paul returned inside to help. When he saw Paul pick up his camera bag and move toward the horse, he spoke with authority. "Forget it, Forrester, you're not going to need that where you're going. Just take what you need for the trip out of here."

Paul quietly put the exposed film he had taken during the trip into the camera bag and placed it in the pile Fox was packing. The past couple months I've become accustomed to carrying the camera with me, he thought, and the pictures were to be our memories to share with Jenny. We've sent a lot of pictures to Liz Baynes already. He sighed. I guess I have to agree what Fox says is true; it appears, more and more like I will not need it. He picked up his rolled air mattress and laid it with a sleeping bag.

Remembering Paul's reference to his comfort the night before, Fox ordered promptly, "You can leave that too."

"But we might have to sleep out again," Paul returned innocently.

"I'll share the horse pads with you," Fox said smugly, as he placed their shared sleeping bag aside for himself.

Roy heard Fox's order. "Paul, you take it," he demanded. "It was a gift."

Not wanting to be the cause of another argument between Fox and Roy, Paul resigned himself to Fox's authority. "Roy, he's right. It's something I won't need either. Please give it to someone who can use it. My camera and gear too."

June was almost in tears as she saw the look of defeat. "Paul, will you please tell us what this is all about," she implored. "What does he want with you and why does he treat you like this?"

Paul looked quietly at Fox then to June. "He's afraid, June."

"Afraid of what?" she returned. "Will you please tell us something?"

Fox glared defiantly and Paul, lowering his eyes, didn't respond to her request. Fox turned to her. "Mrs. Foster, it would be a very long story and I was under the impression we were in a hurry," he offered smartly.

They finished sorting and stuffed the necessities in saddle bags or burlap sacks. The rest of the sleeping bags they wrapped in the plastic ground cloths in case circumstances did dictate they must camp again. Fox helped Paul move the boxes containing the abandoned items under a dense grouping of trees and they wrapped the small tarp around everything. At Roy's direction they placed a stack of firewood on top to hold down the tarp.

Forty-five minutes from wake-up, they were ready to leave. The visibility had continued to deteriorate as the snow came down harder than ever. Another two inches had been added to the three of earlier. Fox approached Paul again and smoothly pulled his arms behind him and secured the loose handcuff. Holding him by the arm, he guided him over toward the horses.

Kathy saw Paul's situation immediately and rushed over. "For God's sake, Mr. Fox, is that really necessary? Paul can't even get on."

Fox's eyes opened wide then narrowed and he growled: "Then help him on," he said decisively.

An angry June followed right behind. "He can't ride all the way like that. This trail we're taking isn't a big city bridle path. The rider has to follow the horse's movements, not work against them. Paul will have trouble just staying on."

"It's standard police procedure for moving a prisoner," Fox returned with authority. "I'm not taking any chances of having him escape."

"In case you haven't noticed, Mr. Fox," Roy interjected with an air of resumed authority, "this doesn't happen to be a procedure kind of day. If you insist on procedure, we might as well unpack because we're not leaving."

Fox's eyes narrowed and his forehead wrinkled remembering the hour spent fighting his way down the mountain from the chopper. If I would have listened to the pilot's advice, I could have avoided almost all of that. I might have been in better stead with these people by being on hand to help. He pondered his choices. I wish I could safely use some tranquilizer, but that also is not feasible for It could fall off. I definitely don't want anything to happen to It this late in the game. I know Wade expects delivery of a live specimen.

He wrestled other options, eliminating them one by one. Right now I want to get myself, and my prisoner, out of this wilderness more than anything I've ever wanted in my life. This time I am going to concede to their experience, but not without reservation. "Okay, but make sure you all stay clear of us," he warned. He turned Paul around and replaced the handcuffs in front. He grabbed Paul's arm again, and then glanced at Roy. "I'll lead his horse."

There was a brief moment of silence while Roy's eyes raised and lowered before commenting. "What?"

"I'll lead the horse," Fox repeated, casually. "Just put the bridle on mine and hand me the lead rope for his. I want physical control of both horses. We'll bring up the rear so I can keep an eye on the rest of you."

Roy shook his head as he looked at the man. "Okay, but let me tail Duke for you," he offered.

Fox's eyebrows rose at the unfamiliar expression. "Tail?"

"It's easier to show than to tell," Roy offered.

I've got to see this, Fox thought as he nodded. If I don't like what I see, I can still insist on my way. What's important is maintaining control of the entire situation.

Roy led Duke up behind Red and laid the lead rope around Red's tail below the end of the tailbone. Fox and Paul watched while Roy doubled the tail hair over the rope and back on itself, securing it with a half hitch. He explained. "This way you won't have to hold onto the rope." Roy completed a second half hitch. "Your animals will remain together and have room to maneuver." He began a third.

Fox rebelled, sticking his open hand out with a gesture to stop. "Thank you, but no thank you, Mr. Foster. As a kid I used to ride. You figure the horse will buck me off when he feels something pulling on his tail and you can take off with Forrester. Well you have another guess coming."

"All our horses are experienced packhorses and they're used to it, Mr. Fox," Roy offered. "You're in more danger of getting dragged off if you insist on holding the rope on this trail, than you will ever be of getting bucked off this horse."

"Never mind. Just let me do it my way," Fox insisted.

Roy shrugged his shoulders and a look of acceptance appeared on his face as he untied the rope and handed it to Fox. "Okay, have it your way, but remember you gave the order." Fox nodded his head and gestured to Paul to mount. When Paul settled in the saddle, Fox took the extra set of handcuffs and attached one end firmly around the saddle horn and locked the other end on Paul's handcuff chain.

Roy, observing Fox's actions, said with concern, "That's dangerous. If for some reason the horse goes down, Paul can't get free of him."

"That might be true, Mr. Foster," Fox returned smugly, "but I guess we do have to draw the line somewhere, don't we? This is not up for negotiation." Fox wrapped Duke's lead rope to the saddle horn of Red's saddle. I guess you'll have to be careful of the route you take so the horse doesn't go down with him."

"No, Mr. Fox," Roy replied with deepening concern as he watched Fox tie a knot in the rope. "You're the one who will have to be careful. Tied tight to the saddle horn on this trail your horse could easily be pulled over by his." Fox mounted, adjusted the lead rope to his right side and said impatiently. "Let's go."

Roy shook his head and his eyes rolled back. "Like you said, you're giving the orders." The family mounted and Roy led them out of camp toward the creek crossing.

As he guided his mount into line behind Mrs. Foster, Fox glanced back at the alien. Its friends might try something along the trail, he thought. It will be difficult for It to disappear for long attached to a horse or a saddle. They crossed the creek and moved upward toward the pass out of the valley.

Fox began to think again about his situation and what was sure to be a long day. I'd feel better about this trip if I had been successful in getting the alien to agree to tell them we had an arrangement. Of course, even if the alien had agreed, I could never rely on Its word not to run off. Now, I know It will, for It outright told me Its first obligation is to escape. My obligation to Wade is to bring It in for questioning and that I fully intend on doing. I'll have to depend on control of the horse for the prisoner and the weapon for the friends. The hill got steeper and rougher and he turned his attention to remaining in the saddle.

Paul's attention was with helping Duke climb by holding himself as steady as possible. This climb is reminding me that my chest is still sore and these handcuffs really hurt this morning. The only relief I can get from being jostled and having my wrists jerked by Duke's movements, is to hold on to the front of the saddle. He heaved a sigh. At least I've been riding all summer and I'm used to the saddle and I can anticipate Duke's movements.

Fox was already considering a growing dilemma. We've just started up this mountain and already I'm beginning to understand why Foster suggested I not lead the second horse from the saddle. Climbing this steep stuff isn't like I've seen in western movies where the second horse gallops along beside you with slack in the rope. I'm having nothing but trouble with it. A few minutes ago the alien's horse got his head over this one's rump. Tied to the saddle horn the lead rope first pinned my leg to the saddle, but as the animal struggled to follow with its head on the wrong side, the rope slid up over my hip. If it had pulled me off, I could have fallen right under its feet. I would have been in trouble if both horses hadn't responded quickly, allowing me to get them straightened out. Still I'm not going to give in to this tail tying.

Following in the rear, Paul had an opportunity to watch Fox dealing with developing problems. I know when Roy told Fox not to tie the rope he said so for a good reason. Fox was lucky Duke responded to my request and straightened out when he did or Fox would have been swept off. I wish I could comfortably lay my hand on Duke so I could direct him better, but I can tell Fox is aware of what caused the earlier problem. He is preventing it from occurring again by looking back frequently.

As they climbed in surges, Paul saw another, even more frightening, situation developing. Duke must follow Red blindly and on a very short lead. Red is lunging forward again and Fox is guiding him up a particularly rocky and narrow rut. Duke is trying to catch up, but can't see where he's going. Good, Red has stopped to catch his breath before taking on the steep part. Paul felt Duke's uncertainty under him. Oh, oh, Duke hasn't enough room here on this flat rock ledge for his feet. He felt him moving back. Okay, he's holding his weight forward so he can move his hind legs back off the ledge to balance himself. Paul looked forward again. Oh, no, Fox is getting impatient. He's urging Red forward before Duke is ready.

"Hold up a moment, Mr. Fox," Paul asked, but as Red lunged forward the lead rope became tight. Red is climbing again, but Duke is still going backward. Paul recognized the beginning of a new crisis. Red has been stopped suddenly. His weight is being pull rearward by Duke and he's coming back. Now Duke is off balance too and going back further than he thought. Red can't back fast enough and his front legs are coming up off the ground. He's going to lose his balance. This is what Roy warned Fox about. Duke is continuing to pull him backward! With my legs I'll try to urge Duke forward as soon as he can. ... He can't. It's too late. "Mr. Fox, jump or Red is going to fall on you!" Paul shouted.

Fox heard the warning and his eyes got wider. I'm in trouble, he realized, as he felt the horse rising still higher. He's going to fall over backward. Jump, George! You've got to get clear! He tried to push himself away as the horse rose even higher, but felt the rope tied to the saddle horn firmly holding his right leg. I'm not going to make it, he thought, and then suddenly feeling slack he pulled his leg free. With all his strength he pushed away from the faltering animal. As he cleared the saddle the animal made a quarter turn to one side. Momentarily flying through the air, Fox fell flat on his back out into the snow.

Paul heaved a sigh of relief. Duke, answering my request moved forward and gave Fox the chance to get free. As the extra weight left his back, Red managed to regain some of his balance by turning to the side. Still it is not enough. Red will miss Fox now, but he is still going to fall.

Red fell on his side then rolled onto his back. For a long moment he seemed suspended with his legs in the air. The fall pulled Duke off balance again, but Paul, holding tight to the front of the saddle, remained very quiet and Duke caught himself in time to prevent a similar fall. Ignoring his discomfort, Paul stretched his hand out to touch Duke comfortingly on the shoulder. Red had rolled completely over now and scrambling to his feet, shook himself vigorously.

Fox jumped to his feet. Stop shaking, George, he chastised as he saw June moving his way. Crap, you can't stop shaking. That was too close for comfort.

"Are you all right?" June asked as she looked from Paul to Fox.

"I believe so," Paul replied, looking over toward Fox.

"What happened?" she asked. As Paul explained the details, June's eyes condescendingly came to rest on Fox. She couldn't hold back her comment as she picked up Red's reins. "Roy warned you." When Fox grabbed the reins from her hand, she gave him another warning. "Don't leave the rope tied."

Fox untied the rope from the saddle horn. "I'll just lead the horse so I can guide it better," he offered and she turned to leave. He mounted, settled back into saddle and they moved on.

This leading by hand is proving no more successful, Fox realized, after they had gone no more than a hundred feet. Now I'm having my arm jerked out of the socket. The second beast tries to follow in whatever position is available and almost pulls me off. I have to hold on to this rope at all costs.

Paul watched with amusement when Fox's sheer determination to hold on almost pulled him from the saddle several times. I almost feel ashamed for not trying to help him by guiding Duke more with my legs, Paul thought, but I think I don't want to help him anymore. I guess Fox only learns from his mistakes. I believe I will let Duke hold back if he feels a need.

This isn't working very well either, Fox thought, and brings another, more personal, crisis into focus. I need to direct my horse while it climbs. With my other arm stretched out holding the lead rope, I can't hold on to the sleeping bag or keep it wrapped around me. I'm getting cold. There may be a benefit to accepting Foster's suggestion after all. I believe I should give it a try. "Mrs. Foster," he yelled into the swirling snow, "will you please have your husband stop, and could you ask him to tail this animal?"

The message relayed, Roy dismounted and handing his reins to Kathy scrambled back down to where Fox, refusing to let go of the rope, had his arm and shoulder fully extended. Roy gave him a condescending look as he took Duke's lead rope from the man's ice-cold hand. Moments later it was tied into Red's tail. He smirked at Fox, shaking his head and grumping as he retreated to resume their too often stalled emergency exit.

They encountered no further problems as they climbed and for activity Paul carefully analyzed the physical properties of Roy's suggestion of tailing. The tail level provides a lower center of gravity and the weight of the object to be pulled is far to the rear. Red is now helping Duke with little extra effort.

As they climbed the steep ascent to the pass the visibility became far worse. More than seven inches of snow had already accumulated. The only identifiable objects were a few stunted alpine trees growing alongside the depression Roy knew to be the trail to the top. They looked like ghostly spirits in a solid mantle of white. We have reached the pass, Paul thought. Even if we could see much further than a horse's length around us, I know this isn't the time to stop to admire the scenery. For us the freezing temperature and swirling snow have created a mutual urgency for a hasty return to a lower elevation. I see Roy is not stopping.

Roy rode down the steep area they had chosen to walk up on the way to Spanish Camp. When Fox saw the sharp descent he got off, trusting his feet more than those of an animal that he had already fallen from once. He fell several times within the first minute in the snow.

June hearing some choice words flowing from behind her stopped Blackie and turned in the saddle. "In the snow you'd better stay on the horse, Mr. Fox," she offered. "He has 'four wheel drive' and better traction than yours even if you had proper shoes. Kathy," she called, "have Roy stop." When the horses ahead had stopped she turned back to Fox. "Now, get on," she said firmly. "We don't want to keep stopping for you. Just hold yourself steady and let Red do his job." Fox mounted silently and when he had the sleeping bag around him, she signaled to continue.

Fox braced himself against the back of the saddle and held firmly onto the saddle horn. His knuckles, already white from the cold, remained so from gripping until they reached a place only somewhat less steep.

For the first few miles of the journey, George Fox thought of nothing but survival. Soon he noticed the beast easily and calmly crossed obstacles he thought impossible for an animal. With another very steep area behind him he finally began to relax. The horse continued to calmly plod through the snow, swinging from side to side and deftly clambered over or around obstacles in the trail. Fox noticed it didn't seem intimidated by the steepness or the snow and he began relying on the animal to do the job for which it was apparently well adapted. He also noted, as Foster had said, it didn't seem to mind the other horse tied to its tail.

After another steep descent the trail leveled out and Fox's confidence increased. His thoughts left survival mode and began wandering. Over these months of pursuit there have been so many questions I wanted to ask. So much I've only guessed. So many contradictions even to my earlier theories, he pondered. Like Odyssey II, ... its return to transmission is heralded a miracle among the scientific community. A miracle? A coincidence? Even with what I knew then, I never believed that for a minute. An alien being gets involved with an important female scientist on the project and Odyssey does a flip-flop millions of miles out in space. I knew when I looked at Mrs. Bradford that day at project central there had been something between them. I never questioned the alien having something to do with Odyssey coming back on line, but what? ... And how? And why? Can I call such a gesture subversive? I'll admit I haven't taken any chances on there being something more serious going on between them. I still have an agent checking regularly on her as well as a couple of others, to determine that the alien didn't leave another Jenny Hayden. So far everything has been negative.

Maybe the thing with Odyssey was to repay a favor? Could that be it? She promised the alien assistance in exchange for something she wanted. Yes. ... A good exchange might be the opportunity to smoothly return to work as head of a successful project. But every idea I've come up with seems to bring up further inconsistencies. I remember hearing the government had earlier offered her Odyssey III and she turned it down because of its military backing. It was after the alien left and Odyssey II coming back on line that she changed her mind and agreed to work on both. What prompted her to change her mind?

Maybe the aliens will derive some other benefits from the probe? he pondered. Perhaps it has become a beacon to home their forces in here? That could be it ... a beacon. He heaved a sigh. But why, they got here before without a beacon. Voyager hadn't been out there for very long before they found it, and us. I can hardly believe that once they found us once they couldn't find their way back.

Another inconsistency that has bothered me for a long time is what the investigation in Ironwood turned up. Why would It go out of Its way to see Paul Forrester's mother? Did it want to test It's abilities at deception? It was apparently successful for It was at Stella Forrester's bedside when she passed away. All her friends believed It to be her son. The Chief of Police, who said he never had any use for the real Paul Forrester, even gave It credit for pulling the town together.

It's strange, but in all my confirmed encounters with this creature, I've never been able to confirm it hurt anybody. Still that could be cloaking the far more serious invasion threat, he countermanded. It's certain they wouldn't want to attract the wrong kind of attention. He adjusted the sleeping bag automatically when another one of the drafts that always seemed to appear gave him a chill. I wonder just how many more of them are here? They couldn't expect just one to do the groundwork for any mass invasion. For that reason alone I have to bring this one in, if only for questioning. There are just too many things we need to find out.

Fox broke his contemplation at another steep descent. It's getting evident I have to keep bracing myself down these steep places. I don't want to slide forward in the saddle because I am getting some progressively more sensitive areas in my lower body. The ground leveled in a few minutes and Fox turned to check his prisoner. Seeing the Starman watching, he turned back. This isn't just some common criminal you're looking at George. The face is human, but whatever is hidden behind it has come across the cosmos. I can't keep from trying to visualize what It looks like.

One thing about It continues to bother me. How does It always seem to get the confidence and help of others? These people said they applied continuous basic, physical, CPR for almost an hour to keep It alive. Technicians with modern equipment would have given up long before. Did It, somehow, force them into keeping It alive? It said it could hear them talking even though the heart wasn't beating. Does it still maintain some kind of control over them? The investigation showed It's been with them for over two months; surely enough time to establish some kind of mental rapport.

And, what about that family in Wenatchee? Outwardly they seemed normal, but even when they knew the truth, they let this creature go. Fox shook his head. How does It do it? His eyebrows rose. I wonder why It hasn't tried anything with me?

Paul rode in silence. It's not snowing so hard anymore and I want to look around at the beauty of this planet for as long as I can, he thought. In the snow everything looks so different. It looks so clean and fresh. I can see the foot tracks of every animal that has moved even near the trail and against the snow it is easy to see them at a distance. He smiled. There goes a deer running from us into the trees. It leaves tracks, but the hawk that just flew out soars across the sky, leaving no trace. The hawk has seen a rabbit the deer spooked. It's diving ... Oh! He sighed deeply. Now the only trace the rabbit will leave is a red spot on the snow. What diversity and co-dependency exists here for people to try to understand. Could home have been like this at one time?

As another downhill crisis passed, Fox turned slightly in the saddle and watched the alien riding stoically behind him. This time It isn't watching. I think I'll just continue to study the face while It seems intent on studying the scenery.

Paul broke from his study and caught Fox's eye. He raised his eyebrows in acknowledgment. When he added a smile, Fox quickly turned forward. Now Paul turned his attention to studying Fox and soon saw him glancing back again. I see he checks on me often. He chuckled and couldn't keep from smiling broadly. I wonder if he thinks I'll just disappear. I will admit following Fox has provided me an opportunity to study him. Is he concerned about me? Maybe he wants to talk. From the various positions and curious movements I've observed, I believe he might be doing a lot of thinking. I know I enjoyed riding on the way into the mountains for it gave me time for much thinking and various studies. Is he doing likewise? Is he beginning to ask himself some questions about what he's doing? Is he beginning to think of me more favorably, or is it my imagination? I wonder if he has really enjoyed anything since my first visit to Earth?

I need to clear my mind, Fox thought. I'll look at the scenery for a while. Minutes passed, but his confused mind refused to relinquish control. He reviewed his many conflicting thoughts until Red started trotting and a growing, more pervasive problem intervened. He grimaced. I haven't been on a horse since my folks sent me to summer camp. Why does this horse have to keep falling behind? For miles I kicked at its sides to try to make it keep up. Finally I had to give it up because it was wearing me out. Now when it decides to catch up, it's a period of trotting over the rough ground dragging the other one. I can feel the jerk when the other horse hits the end of the rope tied to this one's tail. It makes the ride rough, but not as rough as it would be if my arm was taking the beating. He took a deep breath, held it briefly then let it flow out. I wonder how much further is it out of here?

Though his varied diversions helped, Paul could not keep his thoughts from constantly returning to the seriousness of his situation. Fox says they want to do research. What do they consider research, basic biology, energy transference or mental capabilities? What constitutes interrogation to a militaristic society? What will they want from me and to what lengths will they go to get it? Can they accept no as an answer? He sighed. Somehow I doubt that. I have learned much about the good in human nature, but I think as in my dream, with the military an attempt at the extraction of information will be closer to the truth. To achieve their chosen ends would they try to use Scott as a lever to get what they want? Paul began to tremble. I must put that thought out of mind, or give up now.

I cannot survive on this world without a human body. If they try to isolate me, they will kill both of us for we constitute a symbiotic relationship. Likewise, without my energy plasma filling its genetic code this body will become incomplete and cannot survive. Dissolving the relationship is only available on the ship. While I can understand Fox's concerns, and why they wish to question me, he has repeatedly threatened to kill me. Is he bluffing? Again, I don't think so. He truly believes my presence here is a threat to this world and that makes him afraid. I think he would sacrifice his life to take mine before letting me get away again. Paul looked again at Fox. What a waste of dedication. He shook his head slowly. What can I say or do that might convince him when he already has made up his mind?

He asked me to go with him voluntarily. Of course I couldn't agree for I would have to keep my word. I must escape if I can. I have to think about Scott's welfare ... and my own. What about my friends? They've been arguing with Fox since he came. What is he going to do to them? I'm afraid if they try to do something for me, he might have the government down on them. I know for a fact, Roy and June are stubborn or they wouldn't be farmers. Even though they do not know the truth, I don't think Fox is going to frighten them into remaining silent about what he did. How far can the government go in the name of this 'national security'? Can it lock away citizens as it plans to do with us? I never thought too much about those who helped us before until Fox mentioned he hadn't pursued them. I wonder if he meant all of them? Maybe some are already sitting in prisons for what they have done for us.

Maybe Fox is just bluffing. Maybe I should just say something to Roy and June the next chance I get. He grimaced. Again, I don't think so. Can I take chances with their freedom in exchange for mine? Besides, I don't think Fox will give me an opportunity anyway. He has insisted on keeping us apart. I might as well remain silent and if I see problems developing for them maybe he'll still consider a deal to let them go. He frowned deeply. Of course I wonder if I had agreed to his offer, if his word is any better than it has been in the past. Right now, I see little chance for my survival, but I do hope the family might try to help Scott.

The miles flowed under the steady beat of horse's hoofs and George Fox began to realize just how tired he was. My whole body is aching and I think we still have a long way to go. What can I do to take my mind off the parts on my body that must make contact with this wretched saddle? I can't take much more of this trotting. How does the alien do it? Never complains. Of course it wouldn't do much good to complain, would it?

It would be nice to have someone to talk to. It would divert me from all this thinking ... and hurting. That would help make the miles go faster. He looked at the three ahead of him. I really have nothing much to say to them, at least nothing they'd want to hear. The alien also made it pretty clear last night It doesn't want to talk to me. How much easier it would have been if It had agreed to come along peacefully? He turned in the saddle enough to see his prisoner again deep in thought. I know you've been trying to make some point, but why play games? Just come out and tell me what you're doing here. It took a lot of gall to ask me to let you go. He smirked confidently. What would ever make you think after just a little talk, I'd ever consider doing such a thing? The alien has caught me watching again, he grumped and quickly turned away.

Why did they have to catch the pilot? Now I'm going to have to take care of that too. He grimaced. The Agency also is not going to like me using it for fixing tickets, but I can't just hang the guy out to dry.

He changed hands on the reins, giving one hand a chance to warm under the sleeping bag. He looked at the hand holding the reins and a quiver ran through his body. Why couldn't I take Its hands? Was I afraid? Perhaps I am too prejudiced to be able to judge what should be done with It? Maybe It really isn't as bad as I envision. He couldn't keep from glancing at his prize, but another alien smile made him swallow hard as he turned forward.

Why does it keep smiling at me. It must realize I'm not the mark, Shermin was. It makes me angry believing It thinks that will work with me. He turned and glowered at Paul.

Seeing the irritated look on Fox's face, Paul didn't smile this time. Cocking his head in puzzlement, he wondered. Have I done something to upset him again?

As Fox continued to glare, he confirmed, It understands I'm not going to fall for that 'let's be friends' look. He turned forward with satisfaction, but the vision of the smile continued and his mind rambled on. It had to be more than just a smile that made Shermin let it go. He visualized the temporary autopsy laboratory he had ordered near Winslow. I can still see the look on Shermin's face after examining my facility and I can hear his accusation about the leather straps waiting for an invited guest. Knowing National Security rested on finding out what we faced, I ordered that feature and in reality thought nothing about the possibility of them having to use them except to confine a living being. Why would It dream about being restrained by straps to a table?

He took a deep breath and held it momentarily. Maybe it isn't so far out of line for me to get It off alone and talk some more before delivering It to Wade's laboratory. My moment in the sun could wait a little while. Is my job for Federal Security only catching It? ... No, for Wade's funding I had to hard sell my apprehensions about this alien presence. Wade even pulled the plug on me once. Actually, I think he keeps me on 'just in case'. That's why the current funding has been so limited. The FSA is the only agency he can work through and they just continue to humor me. Without Wade's influence, I wouldn't have a job.

He closed his eyes trying to clear his thoughts until the rocking movement of the animal made him begin to feel nauseous. Should I put Wade and his committee's monetary investment ahead of using my own judgment? Surely I can be sufficiently objective to make a proper decision. He shook his head. George, what are you thinking? Taking this thing in is what Wade is paying me to do. It's my job and probably the most important one on the face of the planet. He glanced back at the calm demeanor of the alien in the face of coming incarceration. ... Still...?

I notice Fox is riding very strangely, Paul thought. I see him moving from side to side in the saddle, possibly trying to relieve sore places. I suspect this long ride is becoming quite an ordeal for him. I know I got sore riding the first couple times at the farm and this ride is keeping me very aware my chest is still sore, though not as sore as earlier. I think this body's natural pain suppressors are helping control my discomfort. I can tolerate it, but I wish I had my sphere so I could fix it.

%%%

The problems we had coming out of camp only confirmed what I suspected, Roy considered. Fox doesn't know much about horses. Anyone with any horse sense knows you don't tie people to horses or horses to saddle horns in rough country. His face got stern and his chin stuck out stubbornly. I haven't been able to forget what he said to Paul about leaving his camera equipment. As a photographer, it's obvious his equipment is very valuable, and we could have made room for it. But his statement that Paul wasn't going to need it where he was going was unnecessary. If Paul has done something he has to pay for, it's still unnecessary to be so callous for the feelings of another human being.

What really riled me, though, was his demand that Paul leave his sleeping pad. His intention was obvious. He only wanted to cause Paul additional physical discomfort if we had to stay out another night. It was totally disgusting. The sleeping pad incident made the decision to go all the way out in one day easier for it is surely adding substantial discomfort to the government man. I think I would like to remind him. "Since we couldn't bring camping gear, we're going to have to keep on moving as fast as possible," Roy announced. Hearing a loud groan from Fox brought a Cheshire Cat grin. I never realized revenge could be so sweet.

"How much further is it?" Fox asked.

"I would estimate we've already gone about six miles of the sixteen," Roy advised.

"That's only a little more than a third," Fox grumped.

"Correct," Roy replied with a spreading grin.

As they continued onward and downward Fox's thoughts, of necessity, turned to more earthly matters. I knew the ordeal with this animal wasn't over yet, but now I have another thing to be thinking about. He glanced up at the sky. The temperature is rising as we get to a lower elevation. The snow is now turning into an icy cold rain. The snow I could shake off occasionally, but the rain is beginning to soak through the sleeping bag and I'm getting wet again. The rest of them are wearing rain clothes and have no idea of what it's like getting wet an inch at a time. As another half hour passed, the wet was spreading down over his shoulders. Oh God, he groaned, that plate of oatmeal we had for breakfast isn't providing enough energy to keep me warm any longer. When are we going to stop for something to eat?

The horse swaying from side to side and back to front as it moved down a steep place in the trail brought Fox's thoughts back to his body. The pain! He stood in the stirrups. I just can't take this horse any longer. I'm going to get off and walk for a while. The horse stopped when he pulled up the reins and he got off. In five steps he confirmed the folly of his action. "This muddy ground is slippery and rushing in these shoes is impossible," he grumbled. "I can't keep up the horse's speed and now my horse has lost sight of the other animals and he's anxious to catch up. In his excitement, he's going to knock me down. I have to get on again." Red gave him a shove with his face and Fox turned to face him and shook a fist in his face in return.

"Here I am, almost exhausted and now the stupid beast keeps dancing around. He wants to go, but he won't stand still long enough for me to get on." In desperation he finally tossed one rein around a tree close to the trail and held on. As the reins came tight the horse turned sideways and he and Duke stood side by side. I still can't get on Fox lamented. Now what?"

"Mr. Fox you need to go around to the other side," Paul advised.

Fox did so without comment and with the animal still tied t the tree he managed to get his leg part way over the saddle, but still had to untie the reins. After a brief struggle he undid the reins, but before he was settled into the saddle Red took off at a fast trot. The snap when Duke's lead rope came up tight would have jerked Fox off again, except for the death grip he had on the saddle horn. Half on, he had to tolerate the pain of trotting lopsided until they caught up to June. They went around a sharp bend in the trail and with very little turning in the saddle, Fox could see the Starman's grinning at him. If the horse had gotten away from me, he thought, or if I had fallen off, it would have been bye-bye alien. I would never be able to catch up with them. I also know if the alien's friends saw I wasn't with the horse they'd run the animals and leave me before I even had a chance to gather myself together enough to get a bead on It.

Paul tried to stifle back his inner amusement at Fox's constant problems. Then he felt a twang of conscience. I guess I should have conveyed to Duke that we were going to catch up again. I think this is like trying to be slick with Scott, he mused. I just can't stop this face from conveying that I am enjoying his problems.

As she heard the noisy rush of the horses catching up, June mused. I noticed he got off a ways back. I'll bet he had a hard time getting back on. I was hoping he'd lose the horse and we could have just taken off and left him. No such luck.

About another mile of steep downhill passed and the trail leveled off about the same time the rain slowed considerably. Roy finally turned back to look at the group. "Hey, everybody, I think it's time for lunch? There's a good place to stop up ahead."

Fox nodded vigorously at the announcement then checked his watch. "Eleven thirty," he mumbled. "I haven't been able to think of anything but lunch for the past hour and as soon as they stop I'm off this trotting monster. I was beginning to wonder if eating was even on their schedule today. Right this moment I could sure use a cup of hot coffee to help warm my insides."

Roy moved off the trail into a camp down along the creek and stopped. Fox swung his aching leg over the horse to dismount. His foot touched the ground, but he couldn't straighten his leg completely. His eyes opened wide, "I'm paralyzed," he cried as he clung to the saddle horn for support. A long while passed before he felt anything other than pain seizing his weary body. Finally, he felt confident enough to let go. Limping over to a tree, he tied the animal. Unshackling Paul from the saddle, he motioning him off toward another tree of proper size away from the family.

Paul looked over to where his friends were preparing lunch. The police chained me when they arrested me, but why does Fox feel he has to chain me to an object away from everybody? Does he think I'll divulge anything when he has already threatened to incarcerate them if I do? Why does he feel it's necessary to subdue me emotionally as well as physically? Does he do this because he is afraid of me, or them?

June and Kathy prepared a considerable hot lunch from what would normally have been breakfast in camp. June filled the first plate and took it and a cup of coffee over to Paul. Fox intercepted, taking the offering then ordered her to leave. He set the food aside then released Paul from the tree to sit freely in the handcuffs. Paul looked hopefully at the man and held a hand out to him, but Fox pulled away and simply shoved the plate into it.

Am I always to remain restrained and isolated? Paul thought. Is this the manner in which government handles those who are different?

"Over there," Fox said motioned Paul over to another log. "I think we'll be out of the breeze coming down the valley." Soon June brought Fox a hot cup of coffee and an ample plate of food. He first warmed his hands on the coffee cup then consumed it and the food with unusual gusto. When Kathy had a substantial amount of pancakes left she walked over and offered Fox some. He took three, ate two and rolling the third, stuck it in his pocket. As everybody finished eating they began packing-up to resume the journey.

Fox decided to try breaking the verbal ice he knew he had established with the family. "How much further is it?" he asking plaintively.

"Less than eight miles," Roy offered with a subtle grin as he started stuffing the last of the supplies into one of the saddlebags. "We passed the eight mile marker a little way back so we're over half way. Other than our start up the mountain out of camp we've been making really good time. Relax. We're out of the high country now so the trail will be getting better from here on."

Fox groaned, starting back for Paul. "Relax," he mumbled softly. "He's probably never felt like this before." He motioned Paul to his feet and escorted him back to his horse. "To avoid any difficulty getting on, I want us in the saddle before they get on and start down the trail again," he told Paul. Paul mounted and Fox rushed to secure him to the saddle. With Duke still tied to his tail, Fox led Red over to a low spot in the trail and using a large rock to stand on, slid his leg over the animal. Settling gingerly back into the saddle he again wrapped the sleeping bag snugly around himself.

It was obvious to Roy from mumblings and subdued movements the government agent was really hurting. As soon as everyone mounted, he turned Monty around to face Kathy. "Why don't you take the lead? I think we're moving a bit fast for Mr. Fox and Paul. I see Red trotting all the time to catch up."

Now, he notices! Fox scolded silently as Kathy moved Burr onto the trail and Foster fell in line behind her. Wary at first by what seemed like a change from the normal routine, Fox remained highly alert. Shortly he confirmed Foster's words. The smaller horse does set a slower pace and mine is keeping up. I'm grateful for the change, but must question if it was really for me? I'm still going to remain extremely cautious.

Roy continued to ride with June between himself and Fox. I know this guy doesn't trust me being too close, but at least he isn't trying to impose his authority any longer. After his trouble this morning, he seems to accept our judgment about the trail and the horses. I certainly don't want to make any waves in this truce.

For the next half hour everything went smoothly. Maybe I worry too much, Fox thought. They haven't tried anything. Maybe, believing I just might shoot to kill they've given up the idea of trying to get Forrester away from me. Maybe they plan to try the courts. Under these circumstance that move might seem the wisest to them since they may have some valid reasons to question my warrants and could file charges against me. In this one case, however, it isn't going to do them any good. The Agency can muffle their complaints with a claim of national security. I'm sure they'll never see me in any courtroom.

Looking around, he finally noted a reason for some joy in his sorry state of being. The rain has stopped and I think it's getting warmer. I also saw a sign with a six on it. I have to assume these are the signs Foster has been watching. If this continues I know I can make it, but I have another problem I can't deny. I'm tired. I wish I hadn't eaten so much lunch. I was hungry, but continuing to ride has the food resting heavy in my stomach. I do have to admit, what Foster said is true. Not only is this animal keeping up, but we are also on some almost level ground. To me all those things mean no bracing, no pushing, and best of all ... no more trotting. It's wonderful, but now I'm getting sleepy.

"Stay awake, George," he mumbled to himself. "You have to stay awake. You can't fall asleep on a horse, can you? As we continue, I'm beginning to suspect I'm experiencing infinitesimal moments of time for which I'm not sure I can account." Mumbling louder, "You have to stay awake. Look at the scenery. There's a very large tree growing right on top of a rock. You can see its roots growing down the side of the rock to the ground. ... Look across the valley. See the interesting patterns in the rock cliffs. Watch, talk, and always keep your mind working."

After lunch Roy began checking on Fox more often. Shortly he chuckled again. I think he is more comfortable now. ... Yes, he seems relaxed and is easily rolling with Red's movements. Another half mile passed and he looked back as they came around a sharp turn in the trail. I see him shaking his head and, even with a horse between us, I can hear him openly talking to himself. He must be tired. I can almost make a wager that he hasn't slept much, if at all, the past couple nights.

"I've been using the companionship of my own voice to try to overcome my fatigue," Fox mumbled, "but it's not proving very adequate any longer. I know I'm dozing and I can't help it. I need someone to talk to or something to make me think about my answer. How long have I been without sleep now ... two nights? I know I must not have been asleep for more than a few minutes last night before the alien woke me." He forced himself to concentrate on figuring the time. "I actually haven't slept for three nights. In the motel I was too anxious for the chase. Why didn't I take something right away? Who would ever have thought with the alien finally in custody, this would happen to me?"

Roy continued to glance back often as he rode along. It was gratifying to see him accepting our offering of a substantial meal at lunch, he thought. Pushing him hard on that full stomach is also satisfying.

"For once," Fox mumbled, "I think I'll be glad to see Wylie. From a trail sign back a little way and information found at the house, I know we're going out on the trail they went in. Wylie will be waiting there with the police." Fox grimaced. "I wish I felt confident enough to turn the alien over to the police for safe keeping overnight, but I'll never trust local law enforcement again. This prisoner is too slippery and I'm not letting It out of my sight until I put It in Wade's custody or we're at the UFO lab. I'll call General Wade as soon as we get out of here and ask him to send transportation. When I've delivered this one, after a bit of rest, Wylie and I will start looking for the boy." He shook his head to clear the cobwebs. "Now where could he be? More than likely he's with some of the other family members. I just assumed they'd all be together. Calls to some neighbors should provide information on where to find them."

Fox smiled. "Hey, maybe Wylie has already found the boy. That would be wonderful. If I'm that lucky, I can sleep on the plane. With inside containment, Wylie should be able to watch them for that long." He opened his eyes wide enough to stretch his eyelids and looked around. He heaved in a deep breath. "George, you can hardly focus on anything any longer. Everything is beginning to look the same ... a blur. I'm so tired, but I will stay awake. It can't be more than three or four miles yet. How fast does a horse travel, four, maybe five miles an hour? Of course they might be getting tired too. Do the calculation. That's how many hours?" "Long moments passed. "Good heavens, I'm finding it difficult to figure a simple mathematical problem in my head. I'll guess, one at the least, two at the most?"

Minutes passed to further attempts at re-doing the computations in his head, but losing track a couple times by the unaccountable lost moments still plaguing him, so he returned to verbal monolog. "Stay awake, George. You can tough it out. With all you've had to put up with already, if you weren't so determined you'd have given up this chase years ago. A few more miles and there won't be any more laughing when you walk into the office. No more jokes behind your back. No more weird articles on your desk." He grinned broadly, "He who laughs last, laughs longest."

He changed hands on the reins and drew his exposed right hand back under the sleeping bag. Glancing briefly over his shoulder at his prisoner he turned forward again when he saw It watching. "How can It remain so calm? It just seems to accept fate," he mumbled to himself. "The last couple of days have been threatening, but interesting and I must admit it has been an experience confronting this being, even though It hasn't offered much real information. For the most part, I have to agree that what It said seems logical at times, but that isn't for me to determine.

"I have to admit, Shermin was right. It isn't an animal. Why have I been treating It like one? What if It has been telling me the truth and really can't tell them anything? Is research really the first thing we need to do? Is it our right? I know for a fact It is intelligent. Am I ready to take it in merely because It has embarrassed me?" He took a long deep breath and slowly let it out. "I've made up my mind. Wade is going to have to wait a little longer. With Wylie's help I'll get It off alone in a safe place. After a bit of shut-eye and in a more relaxed atmosphere, I'm going to give communication another try. A few hours more isn't going to make or break me." Fox turned slightly in the saddle and gave the prisoner a reserved smile.

Fox keeps mumbling, Paul thought. I can't make out his words, but he seems to be making a lot of unusual motions while riding on a horse. I know he's tired. Is he fighting off sleep? I guess I really should talk to him.

Checking often on Fox, Roy nodded his head. Yes, the smoother trail is doing it. I see him moving and nodding in beat to Red's movements, but most often he leans slightly to the right with each nod. The nods are becoming longer. I wonder how he keeps going. It's only four more miles out of here. I thought he'd give out long before this. I think it's time for me to slip off Monty and let him move on. He grinned, I hate to admit it, but I've been looking forward to this. If everything goes as planned, I'll have him off Red before he has enough time to gather himself, let alone find his weapon. Fox nodded and Roy was off and urging Monty forward with a bump on the rump. This will be your only chance at him, Foster, he chided. Make it good! If you fail we'll have to trust to the law and media.

Paul saw Fox leaning far over to the right and called out to him, "Mr. Fox, wake up!" He saw Fox begin sliding further off the saddle and after a momentary flail in the air he fell heavily to the ground below the trail. Duke shied aside at the unusual escapade. Pulling at the handcuffs, Paul tried to free himself to go to Fox's aid then saw Roy out of the saddle. Good, he thought, Roy has seen the problem and is on his way.

George Fox winked awake long enough to experience a brief feeling of weightlessness and saw the blue of the sky up through the canopy of trees. He felt a thump as the back of his head hit the hard ground, and then nothing. Roy, ready to secure the man with brute strength, or whatever he could find, was on him in an instant.

June shouted at Kathy to stop, dismounted and rushed to help. She kneeled down beside her husband and looked at Fox. "I don't think he needs restraining," she said. "He's out cold, and under the circumstances, I think we should consider keeping him that way." She got up, reached into the saddlebag on Red and pulled out Fox's leather bag.

From his place on Duke, Paul watched his friends as they readied themselves to subdue his tormentor. "Roy, June, Kathy, you don't know the trouble you could be getting into."

"We don't care, Paul," June replied calmly. "We've seen the look on your face when we've tried to talk to you. We've experienced the anguish of having to watch what he's been doing to you. He drugs you; chains you up like an animal and goes out of his way to try to make you uncomfortable. There is absolutely no excuse for it. We've already discussed it. This is our decision."

"But you don't understand," Paul offered.

"What don't we understand?" she replied, with raising eyebrows? "Are you telling us he has reason to treat you worse than an animal? Are you really that kind of criminal?"

Paul thought again of Fox's threat to have them incarcerated if he told them, but he also knew there would not be another chance to escape. "No, I am not a criminal," he said softly. "I have done nothing wrong. I have to think of Scott and I know I must not turn down your offer of freedom; but please believe me, it is best you know nothing further."

June returned Paul's concerned look. "If you don't want to tell us what the government wants with you, that is all right too," she added with acceptance as she turned back to Fox. "I think he'll be coming around soon. We need to keep him quiet to give you enough time to get away, Paul."

June dumped the contents of the leather bag on the ground. She picked out a package of clean needles and syringes, the partly used vial of tranquilizer and the bottle of alcohol. Reading the instructions again, she calibrated and measured out a conservative amount of drug. "Mr. Fox," she said curtly, "if you can hear me, I want you to know I've estimated your weight at least a hundred times the last couple of days in anticipation of this moment." She gave the intramuscular injection. "I hope you enjoy your trip to never-never land."

George Fox heard mumbling voices through the shadows of his returning consciousness. He felt the drug induced sensation radiate through his very cold body. I'm finally getting warm was all his weary mind could relay. A body stressed to the limits of human endurance by sheer exhaustion, succumbed to the release of tension the drug offered. He neither felt, nor heard anything further.

As Fox fell limp, Roy let go of the firm hold he had on the man. He saw June reach under Fox's coat to pull the weapon from the shoulder holster. "I'll take that, Hon," he announced. "I'm not going to give him another chance to use it against us. Can you find his keys?"

June handed Roy the weapon then picked up the radio and offered it. "Maybe we should eliminate this too?"

Roy tucked the weapon behind his belt and took the radio. "With pleasure," he replied. He opened the device and removed the batteries. A smiling face announced the obvious. "I think it has lost power." He laid the radio with the things from the leather bag, got up and walked over toward Monty to stash the weapon and batteries.

June looked through the contents of the leather bag again, searching for the keys. Instead she picked up another smaller vial missed earlier. Reading the label, her mouth contorted with disgust. "Damn, here's the antidote for the tranquilizer." She looked over at Paul. "I should have figured this would be in here since he said he got the stuff from the Forest Service. They usually carry something in case they miscalculate an animal's weight. The same thing can happen to them that happened to you, Paul. I'm sorry, if I had been thinking, we could have brought you around as soon as he arrived."

June heaved a deep sigh then continued to go through Fox's coat pockets. She finally found the keys wrapped inside a piece of paper. The tranquilizer equipment and radio she put back into the bag, leaving it on the ground with Paul's things. She walked over to Paul and opened the handcuffs.

Having secured Fox's weapon in the bottom of his saddlebag, Roy returned. "Paul, you have to get going."

"Where, can I go?" Paul asked, dismounting. "Fox told me they're waiting for me everywhere."

"Everywhere is as big as these mountains, Paul," June replied as she examined the paper still in her hand. She laughed then handed it to Roy. "Here's a bonus from Fox," she said as she walked off to help Kathy with the horses.

Roy looked at it then glancing at June's retreating figure, chuckled and handed it to Paul. "It's his map and it shows all the areas he searched and all trails he's got covered." As Paul perused the map Roy glanced at it again. "I know another old trail and it isn't shown on this map. I know it's in another district, and I'd be willing to wager the desk officer of the district he contacted never considered it. I've noticed, one hand of government rarely cooperates with, or cares about what the other is doing. He pulled out his pen, "I'm marking the trail, my friend, but because it's rather obscure, I'll go with you to show you where it starts and you'll have to hike out to the highway from there." He continued writing. "I'm also marking where Scott is. Go get him and find a safe place to hide. We'll make sure Fox stays busy for a while."

Paul followed Roy and looked down sadly at Fox. Suddenly a new and entirely different solution to his dilemma began to take form. He turned to Roy. "You go on ahead. I want to stay here with him. I'm no longer in a compromised position and I would like to talk with him further. With a little more time, perhaps I can work toward resolving some of the issues between us. At least I might be able to help you with any problems you might have for helping me."

"You want to try to talk with that donkey," Roy returned impatiently.

"I would like to try talking to him ... man to man, without the disadvantage of chains and guns. Perhaps he might be more receptive to reason."

"Whatever you say," Roy returned, shaking his head doubtfully. "We'll leave your horses and wait for you at the other trail junction."

"Agreed," Paul acknowledged. "I do want you to know this could take me quite some time."

"If you don't join us in a couple hours we'll just camp there tonight. Red and Duke will tell you where we are."

"Thank you," Paul replied graciously.

"Paul, you can give him the antidote for the drug if you want," Roy offered.

"I will, but not until after you leave." Paul picked up his things. As he started putting them away in the appropriate pockets, he thought, if Fox is not able to use a weapon to provide him the illusion of power, perhaps we can work out some of our problems. Like I heard June say once, 'Nothing ventured, nothing gained.' That had been an easy one to figure out. Paul picked up the leather bag and unzipped it. If I can see any encouraging response, I might even decide to use the sphere to allow him to see me. Somehow that seems somewhat important to him. Paul fumbled through the items in the bag. Suddenly he turned his entire attention to the leather bag, carefully going through it again. His calm expression changed and he turned the bag over, dumping the contents on the ground, and then he shook it. The familiar item he wanted to see tumble out, did not. He turned back to Roy. "Is this bag all he had?"

"I think so," Roy returned. "Except for his jacket and the rifle on the other side of the saddle, I never saw him with anything else. If you remember, he didn't even have a pair of dry socks when he took over camp." Roy's expression joined Paul's look of concern. "Are you missing something?"

"A metal ball," Paul formed a ring out of his thumb and forefinger, "about this size."

"I'm sorry. I haven't seen any." He looked strangely at Paul. "Is it something important?"

"Only to me," Paul replied with a sigh.

Kathy walked over toward her father to look at a peaceful Fox. She peered down smugly at this predator about to lose his game. "Well, Mr. Government Agent, you don't seem so threatening anymore."

"Kathy," Paul asked, with a hopeful smile, "have you seen Fox with a metal ball?" He repeated his size indication.

"No," she replied. "Have you checked his pockets and the saddlebags on Red?"

Paul kneeled down beside Fox. "I'll check his pockets." It felt strange searching Fox's pockets, but Paul knew he had to find his sphere or lose a lot more than his freedom. He checked all the pockets and still not satisfied, went over to Red and removed everything from each of the saddlebags. Finding nothing he heaved a distressed sigh. I'll have to use Scott's sphere to find it, he thought. I won't be able to make sure Fox is all right or keep complete control of him without it, but I will try talking to him more candidly.

June returned, carrying Paul's duffel. She started giving Paul some instructions, when Roy interrupted. "Hon, Paul wants to stay here with Fox and try talking to him. I said we'd wait down at the trail junction."

"No sweat, Paul," June replied.

"By the way Hon, Paul is looking for a small metal ball," repeating the size again. "Have you seen it?"

She frowned deeply then looked at Paul. "I saw something you might describe as a ball in your hand while we worked on you on the mountain. Whatever it was, at least it appeared round." She shook her head in doubt. "I will say it certainly didn't look like metal though."

"What did it look like?" Paul asked with grave concern.

She shrugged her shoulders slightly, "Kind of a transparent blue. I really didn't take much time to study it. At the moment, my main concern was you."

"You say it was transparent?" Paul asked, evidently distressed.

"I think I could better describe it more as ... glowing, slightly." She looked almost embarrassed. "After you started breathing again, Roy moved you around trying to get you completely covered and it fell from your hand. I don't believe in littering and I was going to pick both it and the tranquilizer dart," she offered sincerely, but at the moment I was just too tired to start digging it out of the bushes. Then Fox showed up." She smiled. "It was a pretty blue. Was it special?"

"Special to me," Paul replied with a sigh, "a keepsake from a far off place and another time in my life."

"A keepsake?" June questioned. Paul's response about a far off place flashed through her mind confirming what she had long ago guessed. Paul didn't grow up in the United States. "I really am sorry. If I would have known it was important, I would have made it a point to go back for it." She shrugged her shoulders. "I guess with all the excitement that followed, I never thought about it again. If you want, I'll find it when we go back for our stuff."

Paul took both of her hands in his and forced a smile. "It's all right. At least I know where it is." I must retrieve my sphere, he thought, but first I have to make sure Scott is all right. He looked at his benefactors. "This does bring about a change of plans. I must accept your offer to leave."

"Whatever," she advised, curiously. "Take Blackie instead of Duke. I know Blackie will come right back to us when you turn him loose since you'll be taking him away from Burr. You may have to argue with him to get him to leave, but you never seem to have much trouble with any of the horses."

"I'll get your saddle on him," Roy offered.

June handed Paul his duffel bag. "I have all your stuff in the bag and ready to go, Paul. You can tie it on behind the saddle."

Paul took the bag then motioned toward George Fox. "What about him? He hit his head pretty hard. He might be injured."

"I don't think you need to worry about him," June offered. "I checked his eyes and they looked normal. I know he was beginning to come around when I gave him the tranquilizer, so at most he might have a mild concussion. I would venture to guarantee him a headache. First aid says to keep a concussion victim quiet and he will be, because I'm going to keep him tranquilized until Roy gets back."

"Please take care of him?" Paul asked.

"There's really nothing much more we can do for him now. After you leave, one of us will go down to the creek for some water and get some cold compresses on his head. Right now, you need to go."

June looked back at Fox with contempt. "Mr. Fox, I hope you enjoy waking up. Maybe you'll remember the lesson Paul got, or maybe you won't." She looked up at Paul and saw the Band-aid on his forehead had come loose. She reached up and removed it with a quick tug. Examining the healing she looked back at Fox with disdain. "As far as taking care of him goes, I don't think I really care very much, one way or the other."

Paul spoke softly, "Please care, June, he is a human being."

"Not much of one," she replied without hesitation.

Paul put his hands on her shoulders and looked at her sympathetically. "Though he is wrong in what he believes, don't let his actions change how you feel about him as another person. He truly believes what he's doing is right and his convictions continue to guide his actions." Paul sighed as he looked again into her eyes. "If I thought going with him would have helped me and Scott, I would have. But I'm afraid if I did, I, and then Scott, would simply have disappeared."

"I wish you would tell us why our government would do that to you, Paul." June questioned. The expression on her face was begging for an answer. "You say he believes he's right. Please explain why he isn't?"

Paul lowered his hands and closed his eyes. "I'm sorry, but I must not." He opened his eyes again, resuming their eye contact. "Believe me June, like I said before, it's best you know nothing. Please make it very clear to Mr. Fox that we haven't discussed my problems. I'm sure he'll understand what you mean."

"I will," she replied less than enthusiastically."

"Will you take good care of him ... for me?" Paul asked with concern.

"For you?" She frowned then nodded. "But only for you." She looked back at Paul and saw unquestioning concern in his face. "After what you've been through the past couple of days, how can you still care about him?" She saw the unfaltering look then conceded with a smile. "Don't worry, for 'you' I'll take good care of him." She put her arms around him and pulling him down to her level. Placing her face against his, she gave him a hug. "I guess this is good-bye."

"I guess it is," Paul replied. "I just wish it could be under better circumstances." A deepening look of concern now covered his face. "I am worried about all of you."

Returning with Blackie, Roy took Paul's duffel bag and proceeded to tie it to the saddle by the leather strings holding the saddlebags in place. He grinned. "And don't worry. I have some ideas of my own about how to handle him."

Kathy gave and received a reciprocating hug. "Will we ever see you again?"

"One never knows," Paul replied. "Maybe someday we can come back to the Island. If we are in the area we would like to see you. I would be a bit concerned about calling or coming right to the farm though." He motioned toward Fox, "He might have people watching you, at least for a while."

"Maybe we could arrange for a place to meet. Call the neighbor and leave a number for us to call."

Paul smiled. "Okay."

When Kathy stepped back, Roy took the reins from June's hand and mounted.

Paul put his hand on Blackie's neck and held it there for a moment then mounted. He moved the horse toward June. "May I ask another favor?"

"Sure," she replied without hesitation.

"When Fox wakes up would you give him a message?" He saw a confirming nod. "Tell him, he shouldn't pass judgment on another until he can look him right in the eye. He will need to take his hands, not chain them when he wants to know what he is, inside." June looked back quizzically then repeated the message to make sure she had it right.

Paul had a growing feeling of foreboding. "Now, I really do have to go. Good-bye and thank you." He gave Blackie the signal to move out and the horse moved willingly away from the rest of his companions though his pasture-mate was calling anxiously. Paul asked Blackie to increase his speed and Roy had to push Monty to keep up.

Now Paul's thoughts raced. If I had the sphere in my hand and it was active while they were working to extend my time, it was responding to my distress. Scott's would have reacted. If Scott deciphered anything, he might try to come to me. If he came to the meeting place, he could be in the government's hands already. It is imperative both of us not be captured. If I find they have Scott, I'll have to return to the mountain to find my sphere. Then I'll have to find a way to rescue him. Finding the sphere in the bushes without Scott's might be difficult. The place on the mountain might not be so easy to find after all the rain and snow.

Paul heard Roy call out to stop. He turned and saw him pointing to an unmarked and obscure trail junction.

"This is where we part company, Paul," Roy said. "When you get to the trailhead unbridle Blackie and put the bridle in the saddlebag. I've also put a piece of rope in there. It would be a good idea to tie the stirrups over the saddle horn so Blackie doesn't get them caught on something along the trail on his way back. Turn him around. Give him a slap on the rump and he'll head back. I'll be waiting for him here. From Fox's map, I don't think this trail will be covered, but keep your eye on Blackie. If somebody is there or coming toward you he'll hear them long before you will. Just be ready to turn tail and make a run for it. When you get some distance between you, take to the bush on foot. Blackie will lead them back this way. Circle around them then vanish into the landscape."

"Thank everybody again for believing in me, Roy" Paul said as he started to leave.

"Paul," he called. "Just one more minute, there are a couple important things I almost forgot to ask you!"

Paul asked Blackie to stop, turned around and the two horses moved together, head to tail. "I hope I can give you some answers."

"The right ones, I hope," Roy returned. "Tell me, did Fox ever abuse you in any way while he held you in camp?"

"No," Paul replied, honestly, "unless you can consider it abuse to have your life threatened continually; or to continue drugging me after I pleaded with him not to."

Shaking his head compassionately, Roy knew he was looking at a friend. "Did he ever advise you of your rights?"

"Rights?" Paul questioned momentarily. Then he remembered his prior encounters with the justice system. "Oh, you mean the words about remaining silent and having an attorney?"

"That's it."

"No, he told me I didn't have any rights."

Roy's eyes lit up with satisfaction and he tilted his head to one side. "Is that a fact?" Paul nodded. "Did he ever tell you anything about any charges the filed against you?"

"I don't think he really has ever figured out any charges." Paul frowned deeply. "Roy, I'm not a criminal. I have done nothing wrong unless it is unlawful to run for one's life."

Roy looked momentarily bewildered, before continuing for he remembered Paul's reluctance to explain his problem and the earlier warning about the danger of knowing too much. "Did you ever waive your right to an attorney?"

Paul looked puzzled again and Roy rephrased his question. "Did you sign anything saying you were willing to talk to him without an attorney present?"

"No, in fact when I protested about answering, he insisted I would eventually do so. Actually I did refuse to answer many of his questions."

A broad grin appeared on Roy's face and his eyes began to sparkle. "Good. I'm glad to hear that." He reached his hand out toward Paul and they gripped tightly. "Now, take off." Their hands slipped slowly apart and as Paul turned Blackie around and started moving away, Roy said sadly and with deep feeling, "Good-bye ... and good luck my friend."

I'd like to stay and ask what Roy is planning, Paul thought, but I have to find out about Scott. With a goodbye and thank you, he rode off.

Roy rode down the main trail a short way mixing Paul's tracks with others then he returned to wait for Blackie. He knew his subterfuge wouldn't fool a real tracker, but he had the time and felt a need to do something more than just wait so he tied Monty and spread forest duff by hand over the horse tracks left on the byway.

Paul pushed on as fast as the black horse could comfortably travel the rough, little maintained trail. He thought about June's description of his sphere and his mind reeled and remembered his dream with Scott stretched out on a laboratory table. Meeting no one, he reached the trailhead in less than an hour; removed his duffel bag from behind the saddle; tied the stirrups to the saddle horn and stuffed the bridle into the saddlebag. He put a comforting hand on Blackie's neck then turned him around. With a playful slap on the rump, Blackie took off at a gallop to rejoin his own family. As the horse disappeared, Paul hefted the bag and started down the dirt logging road toward the highway. Shortly, he heard a vehicle coming and apprehensively ducked behind some trees and bushes to let it pass.

Whistling shrilly for his friend, Blackie galloped up to where Roy waited, stopping short when he recognized Monty's and Burr's answering calls. Roy tied him and brushed out the returning tracks. With Blackie tied to Monty's tail, he returned to June, Kathy and the still sleeping government agent. They exchanged the saddles again and tied a contented Blackie, next to his friend.

June had given Fox additional tranquilizer sometime before Roy returned and Fox started to awaken about fifteen minutes later. True to her word, she held him firmly as he returned to consciousness to keep him from thrashing about with the wild gyrations of muscles trying to follow the orders of a confused nervous system. "Whoa, Mr. Fox," she crooned, softly. "You might have a concussion. Just lie still," she calmly advised.

Fox made a feeble attempt to get up, but unable to think clearly he responded to the soothing voice. Ten minutes later he briefly opened his eyes and in another five minutes he could look around. "Where's Forrester?" he asked.

"He's gone," June offered nonchalantly as she saw compromised defiance on Fox's face. "He left shortly after you knocked yourself out. It does appear, however, that your memory is intact."

"Took off where?" Fox asked excitedly.

"Down the trail," Roy volunteered freely.

Fox eyed them suspiciously. "Oh, he just decided to leave, did he?"

"Wouldn't you?" Roy returned.

"I don't imagine you tried to stop him?"

"Now that's a rather stupid question," Roy replied, shaking his head and frowning. "I certainly had no reason to try to stop him. Remember, I'm the one who questioned your authority for holding him in the first place."

"How long have I been out," Fox asked with concern.

"A couple of hours."

"A couple of hours!" Fox repeated with alarm as he struggled to raise his arm to check his watch. Roy offered a reciprocating nod and Fox looked accusingly at him. "I'll bet you just let him go, didn't you? Do you understand what aiding and abetting a fugitive, means?" Fox could see they had already decided to ignore any responsibility for the loss of his prisoner and decided to move on. His eyes narrowed as he glared at them. "How could I have been out for two hours?" he asked.

"You fell off the horse," June replied. "Roy said he saw you nodding a lot, so I guess you must have fallen asleep."

"Falling off a horse couldn't have put me out for two hours either."

"You hit your head pretty hard when you landed. You've actually got quite a bump."

"I'll bet that broke your heart," Fox replied sarcastically.

She returned a smile of innocence. "Now I wouldn't exactly go so far as to say that."

Fox tried to sit up, but still too shaky he laid back down again. Reaching for an aching head increased by the move, he found a wet cloth on his forehead and another under his head. When he searched for and found a large bump, his eyes rolled and his attitude softened. "I have got an awful headache."

"I expected you might," June offered. "I just saw the end of your flight, but it was the most stylish coup de grace, dismount I've seen in a long while."

"I don't feel like joking, Mrs. Foster. I feel awful," Fox replied.

"You look awful," Kathy added, tongue in cheek.

"I feel nauseated and groggy at the same time," Fox offered as he tried to get up again. After a couple tries he fell back. Moments later with sheer George Fox determination he rose to a sitting position, but holding himself upright made him dizzy and he felt a sudden need to lie down again.

"Whoa, now. Let's back up a minute and regroup," June said as she cradled his head and lowered him gently to the ground. "I think you better relax for a while."

Fox's eyes got wide then narrowed into a grim scowl, "Did Forrester ... do anything to me?"

"No," June replied, realizing the man hadn't heard her earlier comment of personal gratification in giving him the drugs. "You know, you look like Paul did a couple times after you came to camp."

"You knocked me out with drugs, didn't you?" he accused as he grabbed for the back of his head again. "Even this bump couldn't have knocked me out for two hours."

"We didn't bring any drugs with us when we came to the mountains, Mr. Fox. The plain and simple fact is you got the bump from falling off a horse onto your head."

"You know what I mean ... afterward?"

"Me?" June replied tongue-in-cheek. Three pairs of questioning eyes, looked down at him, unsympathetically. "Now why would any of us do something like that to such a terrific guy?" she returned with more than an air of sarcasm.

Fox sat up again and finally managed to remain upright. Momentarily his anger subsided as he held his head in both hands. Right now the pounding in his head seemed a more timely challenge. The fog finally cleared enough to begin thinking creatively instead of merely continuing to exchange accusations. Though the alien already has a two-hour head start, I must take charge and move on. Though at a disadvantage, perhaps it isn't too late yet. He reached under his jacket then frantically searched his pockets.

Roy, noticing his actions, responded calmly. "After the past three days of having it waved in our faces, do you really think we would have left you the weapon?"

Fox glared at his adversary then returned with a not unexpected, threat. "I'll have you all up on charges. You three have been a burr in my side since the first moment I laid eyes on you."

"We didn't think having you join us on our vacation as being a real high point in our lives either," Roy returned. "I also believe you might have violated a few laws too, Mr. Fox. Like, carrying a loaded firearm and using a motorized vehicle to enter a designated wilderness area. Those will do for starters."

"The government will provide me with the necessary clearance," Fox stated with increasing confidence. "The charges will be summarily dismissed."

"Retroactive clearance?" Roy returned with a like air of confidence. "That's an interesting concept in law enforcement. I have an attorney friend who would be very interested in cross-examining witnesses on that point of law alone. But that's only confirmed violation number one. Violation number two will be threatening my family and hijacking my camp. You did throw my family out of our temporary home during inclement weather and you hijacked one of my horses for your own use. I don't know if taking someone's horse is still on the books as a hanging offense in Washington, but it is a civil offense and I fully intend to file charges as soon as we get out of here. Your government agency can't stop me."

"Minor," Fox stated with certainty. "Ultimately, there will be no contest."

Roy's eyes began to sparkle. "Okay, and then how about my questions regarding Paul's fugitive status. Out on the mountain you said Paul was a prisoner under arrest. Paul told me you demanded he answer questions. He also said you never gave him his 'Miranda Rights'. I know judges have released real criminals on that technical oversight by anyone in law enforcement these days."

Wylie always seemed to take care of that, Fox thought and his voice rose in defense. "He was out cold when I arrested him."

"He wasn't out cold the rest of the time," June interjected. "When he woke up I never heard you inform him of his rights. I believe the first order of business in any arrest is to inform the suspect he's under arrest and why. Even if you were only taking him in for questioning, he's entitled to know why. If you allege Paul signed away his rights, I want to see that document right now. If you plan to arrest us, I expect to be advised of charges against us as well. When you advise us of our rights, I can assure you there will be four more miles of silence ahead of us."

George Fox merely glared and Roy continued the assault. "Point number three, Mr. Fox. I have your original warrants as evidence. As a citizen I questioned their validity on the spot. I'm also certain when my attorney examines them, there will be questions when it is confirmed there is no stated charge. A subpoena to testify might have to be served on the Federal Judge who issued them in such a manner. He should never have signed incomplete paperwork even if he had been properly informed." Roy looked at Fox confidently. "I don't understand why you won't tell us the charges against Paul, but I know it should be on your warrant. You have violated a basic civil right of every defendant in any criminal arrest."

June stood up and continued with the barrage. "I'm also sure the Civil Liberties Union might show some interest in challenging your arrest technique. Even if you're CIA, I'm sure any Prosecuting Attorney or judge, and surely a jury, will consider your method an excessive use of force."

Fox glanced at her, "I can beat all your charges," he reiterated.

June carried on the assault. "I think it might be considered very questionable police procedure, even for the government, to use animal drugs on a human being. We can all testify that your carelessness in not reading the label instructions for a potentially lethal drug literally killed him. If we hadn't been right there with CPR and sufficient manpower to stay with it he would have died and been deprived of the most basic of 'all' human rights, that of life. In laws regarding criminal procedures, I still believe this is not yet a country where government can trample over its citizens."

Fox's speech became faster and his reply an obvious attempt to show continued confidence in his position. "With my security connections, I feel sure I can also silence the Civil Liberties Union, Mrs. Foster."

Roy's face took on a look of long overdue satisfaction. I think we have him on the defensive for he's continuing to threaten to pull strings the news media can so easily question. Now is the time to bring up the obvious, "But not before you will have to come up with answers to a lot of embarrassing questions. So be my guest. But like you told us before; by the time we're through arguing the charges before the press and the authorities, Paul and Scott will be long gone."

Fox heaved a sigh. I might as well quit this unproductive arguing. I know an apprehension of the alien will be upheld, no matter what, but now I must think ahead and consider my options. He glared at Roy then said smugly, "We must be close enough for radio communications by now. I'll call Wylie. All I have to do is tune in to the police channel."

"Wylie?" Roy questioned.

"My associate." A sly grin appeared. "Forrester has probably run into him, anyway. Remember, we searched your house and found your itinerary. I know where your truck is parked and I also know we're heading that way. He's waiting there with backup. I'll call him." Fox tried unsuccessfully to stand. "Get me my radio," he demanded.

"Get it yourself," Roy replied, smartly. "It's in the leather bag lying beside you." Fox eyed him suspiciously as he picked up the bag. "I don't believe your radio is working."

Fox's irritation rose noticeably. "I didn't ask you for a diagnosis," he returned as he found the radio. Trying it, he thumped it a couple times with his hand and tried again. "Why should the batteries run down so soon?" he questioned. Opened the battery compartment, he glowered at Roy. "You took the batteries!"

Roy looked at Fox and with a look of utter innocence on his face and with a flip of his hand, pointed to himself, "Who? Me?"

"Give them back ... now!" Fox demanded vehemently. "Don't buy yourselves any more trouble then you already in."

"Mr. Fox, I can't imagine where they might be," Roy offered. "Are you sure you didn't lose them?"

Fox's eyes narrowed with renewed defiance. "You've bought it, Foster, and all for nothing. Forrester will still run into Wylie. He knows what he has to do. He's probably has Forester in custody already and is on his way to a safe house. With all my preparation, I just know he hasn't gotten away this time."

"I think Paul has your map, Mr. Fox. With the notations you had on it, I don't think he planned to go out this trail," Roy returned. "And with your map and a compass, he could even be going cross-country."

There was a long silence while the two adversaries, both possessed with an identical look of obstinacy, continued eyeing each other. Roy finally broke the silence. "There is one thing I will say for sure. As a representative of our government, you really know how to win friends and influence its citizens. Like you told us, you searched our house; almost killed and in front of us abused our friend; took over our vacation; harassed us for three days with a loaded weapon then have the audacity to think we're going to cooperate by holding our friend for you?" Roy reached into his coat pocket. "Oh, by the way, Paul left these." Roy pulled out a set of handcuffs and had Fox's wrists smoothly secured before he could voice even a protest.

"I guess he figured he didn't need them any longer so I'll use them for their intended purpose instead. I'm advising you right now, I am making a citizen's arrest. The charges against you are for armed and mechanical violation of this Wilderness Area and for the civil matters we just discussed against me, and my family. These violations we can testify to first hand. As you already know, I've confiscated your weapon and have put it away as evidence. I will not use it to control you, but I also will not let you coerce me, or my family, any longer." Roy picked up the leather bag. "This I'm securing as additional evidence as well as the rifle." He paused briefly for emphasis. "Believe me; I fully intend to file charges as soon as we get out of here." Roy looked at Fox defiantly. "Can I assume you'll go quietly, or do I have to secure you to the saddle and lead the horse?"

For once Fox was speechless, his mouth hanging open slightly as he looked down at himself in handcuffs. Kathy, looking at the government man with a smile, thought for a moment, and then added, "Now how did it go, just for the record, 'You have the right to remain silent. If you give up the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be...'"

George Fox's head boomed with a vengeance. This time, not only from the bump on his head, but from the out and out defiance of the man and two women now glaring down at him. I've never experienced anyone I've confronted about the alien so belligerent on Its behalf, he thought. The Wayburn woman challenged my authority to arrest the boy and finally aided the alien. She, likewise threatened me with a raft of questioning attorneys, but at least she had the capital, and friends in high places, to back her threats. This is an old farmer, his wife and daughter who have decided to take on George Fox and the FSA. They're adamant in their position, though totally wrong about my authority to take Forrester at all costs. He glared silently from one to the other again. I must be dreaming. This is ridiculous! This can't be happening to me. I'm an agent of the Federal Security Agency. They can't arrest me. He saw the determined look on their faces. My heart is beginning to pound and I see numerous bright spots in my eyes, he confirmed. I know my blood pressure has been doing flip-flops of late and I must calm down. Now, how can I best handle this?

Soon a slight grin appeared as he prided himself in renewal of self-control. I will promise these three they're going to pay for this with their freedom. It might be thought of as revenge in some circles, but they have cost me more than I can ever begin to explain to anybody. Right now revenge is only a pittance in exchange. All I have to do is call the agency and have someone vouch for my authority again. With its power to keep the lid on in the name of national security, I'll more than likely never see any of them again. The grin then disappeared, replaced by an anxious grimace. Oh, God, will they have a field day back at the office when this gets around. I'll never hear the end of it.

June saw anxiety on Fox's face and suddenly remembered Paul's departing words. With all the continuing conflict, I almost forgot. "Oh, Mr. Fox, Paul left a message for you."

"What?" Fox returned sharply.

"He said 'Tell Mr. Fox, he shouldn't pass judgment on another until he can look him in the eye. He will need to take his hands, not chain them when he wants to know what he is, inside.'"

Fox's face contorted and he replied impatiently. "He's back to that again. I wonder why he always likes to talk in riddles."

June saw the perplexed look appear on the agent's face and replied defensively. "Paul's mannerisms seem to make some people think and at times he seems very naive, but I never thought of him as talking in riddles."

Roy's eyebrows lowered. "As far as taking his hands, I think I can help you with that. We've worked together. Working with someone reveals more about a person than just talking ever can."

Kathy, not to be forgotten, added, "I've looked many times into his eyes and have seen only compassion and caring. Perhaps he meant you have to look closer. Then you might see the Paul Forrester we have come to know."

In further support, June added. "He flatly refused to tell us why you're after him, Mr. Fox. He said it was because he was concerned about us, but I know I would do anything to help him get away from you."

June watched Fox and then remembered another undelivered message. Looking at Kathy she shook her head. "Damn. There was one thing I wanted to be sure to tell Paul before he rode off."

"What," Kathy asked curiously.

"I wanted to tell him about that problem with his eyes."

Fox's attention returned immediately from his riddle, back to his job. "What problem?" he questioned with interest.

Kathy, ignoring Fox, grimaced as she remembered the way she felt drawn to them. "Right. I was going to mention it too, but with all the excitement..."

Fox interrupted, becoming more demanding. "What problem?"

Still ignoring Fox, June grimaced, "I wanted him to make sure to have them checked."

They know they have me in their control, now, Fox acknowledged. I realize demanding will only lead to another confrontation or they will just continue ignoring me unless I get myself under control. "He should have them checked for what?" he asked politely.

I would prefer to ignore this man and his demanding ways, June thought as she looked at Fox. The only way I can think of doing that is either give him another tranquilizer or leave him here. The tranquilizer isn't practical and we can't just leave him with the police at the trailhead. Since we do want to get out before dark I think answering may be the way to try to re-establish some semblance of cooperation again. Maybe we can convince him to tell us what the government wants with Paul. "I'm not really sure," she said, "and I would have told him in camp, but you didn't seem to want us around. We actually didn't get too much chance to check closely because we thought keeping Paul alive to be more important. It might not be a problem at all. The light might have been just right to cause some kind of an optical illusion."

Fox again lost his patience at the continuing rhetoric. "Damn it woman, just tell me what it was you saw!"

"Don't you speak to me like that!" June snapped indignantly.

Though seething inside, Fox replied with an appeasing, "I'm sorry."

"Apology accepted," she replied coldly. "Now what was it you asked?"

Fox put on another pleasant smile. "I just asked you to tell me what you saw."

"Now that you've got a civil tongue again, I'll consider it." She paused for a long moment and surprised by his look of genuine interest, continued. "It was the brightness."

Fox's face reflected a look of total bewilderment. "What brightness?"

"After Paul's heart stopped, his eyes had a kind of," she shrugged her shoulders slightly, "a kind of ... spooky brightness."

Surprised by her choice of words Fox's eyebrows rose, and then lowered again into a questioning frown. "Spooky brightness?"

"Do you have to keep repeating everything?" June returned impatiently. Fox offered no reply and she withdrew within herself and closed her eyes. In moments she could see Paul again. "His eyes were an intense blue."

"That is spooky," Fox returned pleasantly, anxious to keep her talking.

"It was like a negative picture," Kathy interjected, "his pupils were a brighter blue rather than black, just like the light was coming from inside."

"If it hadn't been for the emergency," June continued, "I think it would have been almost impossible to stop staring," she added. Looking at Fox again, she continued. "I feel strange telling anyone about this, particularly you, Mr. Fox." She turned toward Roy. "I do want to put what I saw and felt into words for you and Kathy. It was like his eyes were alive even though I knew his heart wasn't beating. Since a heartbeat was far more important, I closed them. When off the duty I checked again. As I looked again I got a very warm feeling and somehow ... I knew..."

"You knew what?" Fox urged.

She paused, gathering her thoughts. Then shaking her head slowly it the just came without restriction. "I could feel him saying 'thank you'. I know it sounds weird, but I didn't imagine it and it wasn't the light. There was no sun reflecting the color of a blue sky I saw in his eyes." She looked at the three, returning their questioning looks. "I checked again later, but it was gone. I never saw it again."

"We all saw it," Roy confirmed, "but you never told us about the thank you."

"Sorry, it was just so personal ...so strange."

Fox pondered their statements. Suddenly he remembered an almost forgotten science fiction movie and his eyes opened wide. Their words took on a new and totally different meaning. "Was the alien using some form of thought transfer?" he mumbled softly. A broad elated smile appeared as he rolled his head and eyes in a broad arc. "Its power is becoming clearer." He returned his attention to the woman. "That has to be it," he announced with pride, "You held Its hand and looked deeply into Its eyes and then I'll bet you decided to help It right?" With his shackled wrists Fox reached up and grabbed one of June's hands and shook it vigorously. "Thank you very much, Mrs. Foster. Now I understand why you kept It alive and why you continue to defend It!"

Indignantly, June pulled her hand away from his unwelcome grasp. "Under the circumstances we would have tried to help anybody," she offered with renewed dignity.

"For a whole hour?" Fox questioned with elation.

"Until all hope passed," she replied with compassion.

"Your problem is you just didn't understand what It was doing to you. It's not your fault. It has invaded and controlled your mind."

June frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"That's how It gets help when It needs it," Fox replied without reservation.

"Are you saying Paul had us all hypnotized?" Kathy asked with a subtle, tongue in cheek grin.

"More deviant than hypnosis," Fox replied, assuredly. "I believe It dictates, maybe even takes over the mind."

"No one has taken over anything, Mr. Fox," June stated militantly. "And one thing I'd like to mention again before this conversation goes any further. I don't know if you realize it, but you're referring to someone whom I like very much, as 'it'. 'It' describes an object, not a friend. Paul and his son have stayed in our home for over two months. They have eaten at our table and helped us on our farm with whatever needed doing. We've worked together and played together and I'm offended by your use of the expression. I'm not denying Paul might have done something wrong, but unless you tell me what, do not keep referring to him in such a disrespectful manner."

At this time she might as well have directed her ultimatum to a stump than to George Fox. 'Now I understand' was all Fox could register as he looked at the three with satisfaction. "Like all the others It has taken you over," he offered. "Believe me, you would have done anything to help It. Now I know, from the way I've been thinking lately, It has been working on me too. I'm just not as easy a mark because I know what It is." Fox started to laugh. "'Look into my eyes' and 'take my hands', indeed."

Kathy's tongue in cheek facade had vanished, replaced with one of hostility. "You're stark raving nuts, mister!"

Fox looked at Kathy then back to Roy and June. If you work it right, George, further damning evidence against It is standing here within your grasp. "Are you ready to back your statement that It hasn't got you in Its power?" Fox expounded. "Do I have your permission to make some ... arrangements when we get out of here?" He continued to grin. I can picture them, and maybe some others I feel sure It has infiltrated over the past months, at the UFO lab.

"What do you mean?" Kathy questioned suspiciously. "What arrangements?"

His eyes dancing, Fox addressed the three, "You have all lived with It for months. Let our scientists examine you ... perhaps the rest of your family as well. Let them try to find out the extent of Its power over you. If we can find some evidence of how It controls people, maybe we can find a way of counteracting it. Agree and you'll have a chance to prove you're not possessed; a chance to prove It really is your friend." I think I have these three almost in the lab, he thought. They would do almost anything to try to prove me wrong. Overflowing with confidence, he added, "But if I'm right, you'll thank me. I feel sure it's not too late for you." He paused awaiting a reply, and then continued. "Am I correct in assuming I have your cooperation?"

"This is total bullshit!" Roy returned defiantly. "I know Paul is my friend. I don't have to prove it and I have no intention of helping you prove otherwise. I've helped him because I wanted to. Other than still being curious about what the government wants with him, I don't feel any different, now, than I did when I first shook his hand in our living room."

"That's the point, Mr. Foster, you have already shook Its hand and been drawn to Its eyes," Fox offered. "Believe me, you will be thanking me!"

With his face reflecting a growing displeasure, Roy noted the man was blatantly ignoring June. "Mr. Fox, right now I wish to join in my wife's request and this is the only time I'm going to say this." In a tone of voice that should have commanded Fox's attention he demanded, "Unless you explain fully what you want with Paul and why we should not consider him our friend, do not refer to him again as It."

Fox's elation could not be restrained by mere words. For the first time I understand why this man standing over me is defending the alien and threatening me with bodily harm. I have to convince these people of the seriousness of their condition. I need their cooperation. "For God sake, Mr. and Mrs. Foster, Mrs. Doran, you don't have any idea of what you just helped escape?"

"'What' also relates to an object, Mr. Fox," June replied militantly. "When you're referring to Paul, I don't want to hear you to use that expression either."

"Of course I'm referring to Forrester," Fox retorted loudly, "or whatever it was you just said you saw inside It!" Fox saw an angry look appear on the man and women's faces, "... I mean him," he added compliantly.

"What has Paul done for you to refer to him as a ... a thing?" June asked.

Suddenly Fox remembered General Wade's orders again and he sucked in a deep breath. I'm just about to breach orders again by disclosing top-secret information. Instantly he took control of his euphoria. "I can't tell you."

Such an abrupt change of strategy brought sheer determination to Roy's face. "If you don't play it straight with us, Mr. Fox, headache or not, you're going to be walking the rest of the way out of here."

"It's orders," Fox stated succinctly. "I've already said too much."

"You better tell us!" Roy ordered, emphatically. "Believe me, that was no idle threat!"

Their eyes met again and Fox could read the man's expression. "Don't you understand, it's a top security matter? I can't tell you," he offered meekly.

Roy glared back. "Mr. Fox, let's drop all of this B S! You are going to tell us what you want with Paul and Scott, or else!" Roy continued to look at Fox, awaiting a concession, but seeing no change in the man's attitude, continued vehemently. "Since, we seem at an impasse, I guess it's time we hit the trail back to the real world."

Fox steeled himself. I can walk the rest of the way because I'll have the final satisfaction of knowing I'll be teaching them a thing or two about the agency I represent.

The family prepared the horses to resume the journey. Roy tailed Duke to Blackie then returned for Fox. He pulled him to his feet and hauled him behind Monty. Roy had a lead rope tied securely to Monty's tail. He fastened the hanging snap onto the handcuff chain. "Though you can release yourself, I would suggest you not do so for there are worse ways I could tie you."

Fox noted the look of satisfaction on Roy's face. Foster's subtle movements leave no question he's enjoying this, he thought. His enjoyment will last for only a few more miles. It will end when we reach the waiting authorities. He watched them mount.

As Roy urged Monty onto the trail, the horse's tail stretched taut, jerking George Fox in behind. How can I ever explain what I'm feeling right now? I'm George Fox, an agent of the Federal Security Agency. They can't treat me like this. He glanced back and saw satisfied smiles on the women's faces. The additional indignity is having them behind, laughing at my government position. His pause and backward glance resulted in a sudden launching, as the horse did not pause to look around.

"I would estimate it to be about another four miles out of here," Roy said with an additional air of satisfaction. "I want to inform you, before you accuse me of doing it on purpose; this horse tends to increase his speed as we get closer to what he believes to be his ride home."

Fox accepted his continuing bad fortune and could think of nothing further to say. Except for the roaring of the stream below and the sound of hoofs on the trail, they moved on in silence. The trail had improved from the steep going of earlier and Monty quickly picked up his going home pace.

I can't compete with the speed of the animal, Fox confirmed. Often I have to run for I want to avoid being jerked along. I've already had one too many for comfort. I have been developing my own avoidance strategy. I run to catch up as soon as the animal's tail begins to stretch out, but now it's going even faster. It seems I'm running most of the time.

Twenty minutes down the trail they came to the first of many times the creek still had to be forded. Fox stopped short as Foster's horse slid down the bank into the water. He stood looking down into the rushing water then realized the coming reality. I can't remain on the bank. I have to go in, or be dragged in. Monty's tail stretched taut. George, you have to act, now or go in headfirst. Jump! He landed knee-deep in the racing water of the rain and melting snow swollen creek. Somehow I've managed to remain on my feet, he confirmed as the horse continued across. I guess I took this for granted when I was riding the animal. "Slow down Foster," he yelled as he waded across through rocks submerged by the high water.

Hearing Fox's appeal, Roy replied, "Sure." He stopped Monty about midstream and allowed the horses to drink.

I'm thirsty, Fox thought as he stood in the ice cold water. He reached down with cupped hands and got some water but lost it when Roy moved on.

Forget the drink he thought. As the tail stretched out he slogged across. My mouth seems even drier than before. In addition, the deep water got my slacks soaked, he noticed as the animal pulled him up the slippery bank and out of the water. They're clinging to my legs and restricting my stride. Reaching the tail again, he anguished, and my shoes are full of water, making following even more difficult. I hope it squeezes out soon. Shortly the trail became rough and the horse slowed to carefully choose its path. Following so close behind while the horse moved around obstacles, Fox could not see them until the animal made a sudden change in direction.

Quick decisions of where to put his feet had to be made. Hesitation meant having to regain balance, often between large boulders, and then reaching the end of his tether, another jerk to his shoulders. A few more pulls and scrambles and his shoulders, legs and feet were aching. There was never time to look around for he had to pay close attention to watching the animal ahead for clues of what to expect. Finally reaching another area of smooth trail, Monty picked up speed again. When possible, Fox could not keep from glancing at the man riding in front of him.

Their eyes met when Roy turned in his saddle to look back. He grinned. "Are you having a nice walk, Mr. Fox?" Getting no response, he turned forward again.

As they passed a two-mile marker, Fox was tiring. We still have a long way to go. I also know our speed is continuing to increase. I can hear the horse I was riding galloping more often to catch up. All that exercise I've kept up religiously to keep in shape never prepared me to keep up with a horse on his way home. I can feel my heart pounding. The exertion is making my headache worse and my lungs are crying for air. Without Wade's gag order, apprehending the alien would have been simple. A picture and request on TV would have left Forrester no place to hide. Of course Wade is afraid of publicity, and I have to agree. By letting the cat out of the bag the alien could be grabbed by subversives. That would definitely not be in our best interest. So this is how it has to be. With a pleasant outward appearance and the ability to get people under Its control, It has almost unlimited help in escaping each time I do catch up with It.

The rocks passed and the trail leveled for only a short distance before they entered another area of large boulders and Fox prepared for another rocky descent. He drew in as large a breath as he could hold. I'm weary. I have to stop soon or fall. Wade surely didn't cast my orders in stone. While I might die for my country to catch these aliens, this is a stupid waste. A few steps later he stumbled, going down hard on one knee. Managing one more burst of energy he managed to regain his feet before being dragged. I'm done. Gag order, or not, I can't take this any longer. "Mr. Foster, can we stop?" he asked between heaving breaths. "We need to ...talk."

Not surprised at hearing from the man, when everybody was out of the rocks Roy reined Monty to a stop and turned in the saddle. "We will listen to what you have to say, but unless you're ready to give us some straight answers, I don't really think we have much to talk about," he replied sharply. He saw Fox nod.

Looking him in the eye, Fox said, "Okay. You win," he conceded, gasping for air, "but first I want you to ... know, if you repeat to anyone what I am about to tell you ... I will deny it. I know ... you'll agree with me when I tell you why I've been chasing your friend."

"I wondered how long it would take for you to come to your senses," Roy replied with a satisfied grin. "I'm sure we're all anxiously awaiting the truth."

Fox looked surprised, and then disappointed. "Won't you even let me sit down and rest?"

Foster heaved a sigh, dismounted and tied Monty to a convenient tree. Meanwhile, June dismounted and moved over to Fox. She unlocked the handcuffs from the rope in the tail. Fox staggered a few steps off the trail and sank to the ground. Everyone found a spot to sit and watched him continue to heave. When he felt his racing heart slowing, George Fox returned their looks.

All his pent up emotion over so much interference in his life's work this past year flowed in a stream of words he had often longed to say. "First, I'm not a Simon Lagree. I do have a very valid reason to use whatever force is necessary to stop and incarcerate Paul Forrester and his son. The reason I so easily refer to Forrester, as It is the thing you call friend isn't really a human being. There, now I've told you."

A disgusted look appeared on Roy's face as he looked at the man. "Mr. Fox, if we're talking about not acting human, either June or Kathy must have a mirror somewhere. Perhaps you need to take a closer look at the only 'being' I've seen who hasn't acted human."

"'Acted', is the correct term, Mr. Foster," Fox replied looking Roy straight in the eye, "for with continuing experience the being you know as Paul Forrester is getting very good at it." Fox paused momentarily. "For the past sixteen years, my job at Federal Security has been to find the aliens that have infiltrated this country."

"Being an alien, Mr. Fox, doesn't disqualify someone from the human race," Roy replied, shrugging his shoulders. "Besides isn't apprehending aliens the job of the Immigration Service?"

Fox fought to hold back his growing impatience with another incompetent who couldn't understand a simple statement of fact. "I said Forrester is alien," he stated, holding eye contact. "I'm talking about a non-human, extra-terrestrial alien, one of many who may have infiltrated this planet. Would you like to venture a guess as to why?"

June looked at Fox sympathetically, "Maybe you do have a concussion, Mr. Fox. It's apparently playing tricks with your thinking. You better lie down again."

"I don't need to lie down, Mrs. Foster!" Fox countered loudly as he looked from one to the other. "My thinking is fine. My only problem is interference in doing my job by what always appears to be well meaning people like you."

"And just what might that job actually be," June asked angrily, "killing whomever you feel like accusing of being spacemen with an overdose of drugs? At least most people who overdose do it to themselves."

"You know that was an accident," Fox returned succinctly.

June grimaced. "I think the description of your job sounds like good old fashion McCarthyism to me. I thought we put that kind of witch hunting behind us in the Fifties."

"Believe me, Mrs. Foster, "This threat is real," Fox returned.

June looked at the man, "I can't believe I'm hearing such garbage coming from a grown man," she said loudly. "You should be ashamed of yourself." Her face contorted sourly, "I think you've just given me a case of heartburn. Of course, whether an accident or not, your carelessness would have killed another human being. One I happen to care about." She looked at her husband and started to get up. "Let's go, Roy," she said vehemently. "I don't want the listen to this crap any longer."

"Listen, please. I'm telling you the truth," Fox retorted. "Forrester is extra-terrestrial."

"Paul, an ET!" she countered, kneeling down once again beside the deranged man and laughing openly. "What will you come up with next? I don't know why, but for some reason you sure have it in for him." She pushed Fox to a reclining position and carefully examined his eyes. She shook her head and her grin faded to one of concern. "I really think you better remain down, Mr. Fox. I'm not confessing to having given you any of your drug, but it could be the residual of something like that together with your head injury. Something is causing you to hallucinate."

"I'm not hallucinating!" Fox returned defensively. He tried to get up, but the woman held him securely. "It's all of you who need something to clear your heads!"

June turned with concern to her husband. "Roy, I promised Paul I'd take care of him. Maybe we've been too hard on him after such a rap on the head. Even though his eyes still seem all right, I could be wrong. I don't consider myself an expert in first aid. He actually might have a concussion."

Roy shrugged his shoulders. "Sorry Hon, but we wanted to get the truth from this turkey. Now he's just changed to a line of bull." Roy turned to address his adversary again. "Okay, Mr. Fox," he conceded, "tongue in cheek. We'll play your game for a little while. You're trying to tell us Paul Forrester is an out of this world alien, and you're worried he has it in for us."

"Very possibly," Fox returned.

Roy burst into laughter. "Personally, I think you belong in the Looney Bin and since you work for the government, I guess the joke is on us. We're helping pay you to persecute our friend. Come on, can't you think of anything better to justify what you did?"

Fox looked at Roy, completely exasperated. My job is important, even to them. Gathering his thoughts, he took advantage of June's momentary inattention. Popping upright he gathered his thoughts. Again completely in control, he tried counteracting their combined laughter. "My job is to apprehend It ... him and to find out what they're doing here."

Kathy decided to join the effort to humor the man. "Well," she smiled, "while we've been enjoying your company you did have time to talk to him about it, didn't you?"

Fox looked at her and his eyes rolled upward along with his increasing impatience. "Of course I talked to ... him."

"Well, what did he tell you?"

"He has confirmed to me on more than one occasion that he is alien, but he isn't stupid. Do you really believe he would infer anything other than they're not aggressive? What he says doesn't mean anything. My job is to get this 'known one' into the controlled environment of a properly equipped laboratory. There, our scientists can find out exactly what they are; where they're from; how many are here and what they want. There are a lot of other pertinent questions to ask while It's," Fox again stumbled over his words, "he's in our total control."

"As June has already told you," Roy offered in support, "I've worked closely with Paul and I think I know him as well as anyone here might. You just said something I simply cannot believe. If, in the wildest stretch of the imagination, what you're saying could be true, why would such a being be running around with a teenager?

"Scott is It's ... is his offspring," Fox offered. "This one was here years ago and appeared in the body of a Wisconsin house painter named Scott Hayden."

Kathy shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly. "Do I understand you correctly? You're telling us he just changed bodies?"

"Yes," Fox replied in frustration. "He's in a different body. Just don't ask me how."

"Mr. Fox, I wouldn't qualify that statement by asking," Kathy laughed. "This is beginning to sound like a bad science fiction movie plot, but I can't see where you've properly cast Paul as the villain."

Fox looked directly at the woman, replying slowly and deliberately, "I don't think you're taking me seriously. Believe me, I am serious. The teenager you know as Scott Hayden, or Forrester, is a crossbreed It left here on that first visit. Now, do you understand the potential danger?"

"Mr. Fox, your alien also said he was looking for Scott's mother," June threw into the conversation. "Do you also plan to shoot her down as one of your suspected aliens?"

Fox momentarily fixed his thoughts on her words and his nose wrinkled as he remembered the harassment in the office. Why would she refer to It as 'my alien'? At the agency they know my job and use that reference to annoy me. It isn't 'my alien'. It has never been my alien. His eyes narrowed, questioningly. Was it just an innocent remark, or...? He saw the woman looking adamantly at him.

June awaited an answer. "Well?" she asked impatiently.

"Momentarily out of touch, Fox asked absent-mindedly, "Well, what?"

"I didn't think you were listening. I asked you if the boy's mother is also one of your aliens."

"Her name is Jennifer Hayden." Fox offered without hesitation. "She lived near Madison, Wisconsin. She's not one of them, but I have been looking for her as well. This alien abducted her at gunpoint sixteen years ago and the boy is the resultant half-breed. It apparently coerced the woman into having and providing for the child with the same form of mind control It's used on you. It was only after many years I found the boy again and discovered It was back. Now, thanks to you three, this thing, and God only knows how many more, continue to roam free."

June looked puzzled. "Then why is Paul looking for the woman?"

"I haven't a clue why It's..." Fox stumbled again in his continuing frustration, "I haven't a clue why he's looking for her! Maybe there's some genetic compatibility. Maybe they want to create an army of what we will all think to be our children. That's another thing we might have found out under the proper conditions."

Roy listened intently to the exchange to gather his thoughts. For a few moments he looked critically at Fox, and then smiled and scratched his head, contemplatively before putting his thoughts into words. "Well, I'm going to tell you what I think, and I'm speaking from living and working with both Paul and Scott and from experience as a farmer dealing with the possibilities of genetic improvement. If that man is an alien being and Scott is a human/alien cross; I think we should help them find the woman and if she's willing, encourage them to start a breeding program. I think we need to encourage the natural propagation of the hybrid, not imprison them. Totally contrary to what you say, Paul and Scott are two of the nicest, most helpful human beings I know."

Fox eyes opened widely at the same time his mouth dropped. "A breeding program!" he shouted in alarm. "Do you have any idea of the danger in what you are suggesting? Aren't you even vaguely aware of the power these aliens must possess to cross the cosmos to get here?"

A contemplative look appeared on Roy's face. "In that case, I would guess they might know a great deal more than we do. Maybe, if we take the time to listen, we can learn something."

Fox collected his thoughts again. "You're right. It is almost certain they are intelligent and probably have control of tremendous power as well." His eyes narrowed. "The question we must ask, is what do they intend to do with that intelligence and power? With your suggestion, the threat to the world we know is of great power in the hands of a superior few. It's the old problem of 'absolute power corrupting absolutely'."

"I'm going to be straight with you, Fox," Roy said critically. "First, I don't buy this aliens from space crap you're trying to feed us. Second, I can't imagine why you would ever want to treat anyone, let alone a visitor from space, in the manner in which you've treated Paul. I figured out long ago that he's extremely intelligent, and well educated, but I can understand your basic concept about intelligence and power corrupting. However, knowing the man I can only comment on our association. I will tell you I can't remember him saying or doing anything suggesting any tendency toward what you profess we should fear. What I have seen tells me the opposite. He displays an unbiased interest in even the simplest things around him. He's eager to learn and quick to help others." Roy gazed back at Fox. "Still you must have some reason to think as you do. Tell me what you've observed to make you treat him as you have?"

Fox returned Roy's look, grimaced and shook his head slowly, conceding to another hopeless alien conquest. "You've all had over two months of direct personal contact I'd have to counteract before you'll believe anything I tell you. I don't even know if it's possible for you to overcome." He looked from one to the other, still shaking his head slowly and pondering the challenge. Is it worth the effort to try to overcome it out here? He finally gave a conceding sigh. "Just forget it. I'm afraid arguing with you is going to be totally unproductive. It's obvious to me It still controls you."

Roy's eyes narrowed. "You started all this bull about Paul and I'm not about to forget it! You've just made some pretty serious accusations." His voice continued to rise as he stared back at Fox. "Just tell us about some experience you've had to back up what you're saying."

"Mr. Foster," Fox rolled his eyes upward avoiding Roy's glare, the crux of your problem is It's already got to you. Just like it was with the Hayden woman and so many others, I know trying to reason with you will be a total waste of time."

June glared at Fox. "You just accused Paul Forrester of being an alien being, and Scott a half-breed - something. I don't buy it. Then you insinuate he has taken control of us, something I don't feel. You stand there spouting such drivel and expect us to believe it. Why don't you just tell us the truth? What has Paul done to you, personally, to deserve being treated like an animal?"

Fox looked at her stubbornly. "Mrs. Foster, I really don't care what you believe. All I know is none of you are in any condition to judge the seriousness of this whole thing."

"There you could be correct," she confessed. "All I know is I can't take you seriously."

"It's all right," Fox offered compassionately. "It's not your fault, but believe me it is serious. If you can, put friendship completely aside. Why do you think your government is providing me with the funding to pursue these aliens?"

"We all know our government funds lots of worthless projects, both at home and overseas," she returned calmly. "I think in congressional circles they call it pork barreling. If we could save the money you spend harassing innocent citizens in your search for nonexistent aliens, the funds might be available for other, more worthwhile causes."

Roy snorted, as he looked the government man over again. "I don't understand why you keep insisting on such a wild story, particularly in an attempt to get cooperation, Fox. I just don't think we're gaining and we're not going to listen further unless you come straight with us."

"I have come straight with you!" Fox returned emphatically. "You just can't hear it. Think, man! You're trying to put what you believe is a friendship tested over only a couple of months, above the possible future of this entire planet."

"I'd put that friendship over trusting you anytime, mister," Roy returned adamantly. "Get up! We're just wasting our time, and I really don't want to have to put up with you for another night." He watched Fox struggle to his feet. "I'm sure in a couple more miles there are going to be many questions asked and statements made to the authorities you say are waiting for us. I guess we'll just have to wait and see who they believe."

Fox looked at the handcuffs. If you don't want to be dragged behind a horse again, you better speak up now. I'll try the woman. He turned to June then looked toward Monty. "With my headache, is that really necessary?" he pleaded.

Roy answered with a determined look. "I think you've earned it. Now you know how Paul must have felt."

"He's right and we don't seem to be gaining, Roy," June added. "Please don't forget the promise I made to Paul. Besides, a concussion could explain his fixation. His illusions might not be his fault. He may be unable to give us a straight answer anymore than we can believe anything he says. Just let him ride."

"The wife did promise Paul she would take care of you, though I can't understand why he cared in the least." Roy offered. He looked from Fox to June. "I don't know if I really want to provide him with a ride."

Fox looked again at June, meekly. "Mrs. Foster, I really have got a whopping headache."

Roy recognized the tactic. Now he's trying to take advantage of June's compassion. Roy's look changed to one of increasing annoyance.

From years of living with Roy, June recognized his stubbornness to give in easily. She looked back at Fox then to Roy. No exchange of words was necessary as she nodded.

"Your mount is waiting," Roy said compliantly. "Just get on before I change my mind."

Fox got to his feet and presented his handcuffed hands toward Roy. "Is this really necessary?" he said with an air of humility. "Unlike your friend, I do not choose to run away from the laws of our land."

I have no intention of conceding on this point even with my soul-mate, he thought. Having this agent in handcuffs represents a victory and revenge is sweet. He glared abrasively at Fox. "Don't push it, mister! Just get on!"

With some concessions gained, Fox decided not to press further and risk returning to the horse's tail. This arrangement is far superior to earlier, he thought as he struggled up into the saddle. He felt another surge of humiliation when Foster, didn't hesitate to secure him to the saddle horn, and then watched meekly as his horse was tied to the rope in his horse's tail. And so they moved on.

The trail remained good, crisscrossing the stream several times. With the animal doing the work again, Fox's thoughts drifted back to his various personal encounters with the alien. It, actually, has never been personally threatening, he thought, though with Wylie for an assistant I haven't been able to push It too hard. He took a deep breath as his thoughts sidetracked. Wylie has a talent for errors of the greatest magnitude at the worst possible times. I think he is the whole world's model for all Murphyism's. He must be my penance for some personal wrong I've done to someone high in government.

His thoughts continued to meander as often as the stream they followed. With my current knowledge, I know this alien has additional power at Its disposal that I have yet to discover. There are the illusions I've experienced: Fire engines that disappear; souvenir pistols that discharge; an aerial display of such proportions it must have been visible for a hundred miles. Then there are the non-illusions like tires blowing out simultaneously; reactivated satellites and Christmas lights that come on without power. One guy even insisted someone had earlier cut down the Christmas tree. He must have been too full of Christmas cheer because when I examined it, I didn't find a mark on it. As shocking as all these things were to someone with both feet on the ground, none really presented any real danger. When I first saw the aerial thing, even I had to admit it was beautiful.

When I think about it, It has also never offered any physical resistance, even to being arrested. It has never used any power other than the illusions or Its control of others to escape. Even when I came in with the helicopter, It just stood there while I shot It. It surely had time to do something before the tranquilizer took effect. Instead, It tried to run away.

He looked up just in time to see Foster turned in the saddle watching him. He acknowledged Foster's look with a nod. When he saw him turn forward again, unable to control the restless energy invading his thoughts, Fox returned to his game of mental ping-pong. Even after I almost killed It, both of the Fosters said the creature asked her to take care of me. Does It have something more sinister in mind for me? He frowned. Of one thing I'm almost certain, when It was staring down the barrel of my weapon, It was afraid. That alone convinces me they are mortal. He cocked his head slightly to one side. Talking to it these past days has been interesting, but all mouth. ... Of course, I have been threatening It and that leaves a poor climate for candid conversation. I believe a couple of times It literally accused me of not using my head. Still I have to think of the country ... the planet. That's my job.

He pushed down hard on the stirrups and stood in the saddle for a couple of moments to straighten his legs. Feeling momentary relief he sat again. Reviewing Its accusations based on his proposed actions, questions continued to invade his thoughts. What if I am wrong? A deep frown covered his face. Have I wasted all these years? ... No, that can't be true. He paused. But what if...? I can't believe how close the narrative of Its dream came to reality for them in captivity. Did It guess or can they see the future? Another old movie came to mind. Maybe they're not from outer space at all. Maybe they're time travelers from the future. That could explain why the craft we examined had no provisions for the comfort of a passenger. Travel through time might not take long. Maybe that is why they don't want to tell us anything? Maybe having It escape from me so many times has just been personally embarrassing. Is my determination to take It in only to make It suffer for those times? Perhaps It was right. I just want to get one on all those who have laughed at me for spouting off about an alien presence. A presence, is that all it is?

Fox took a quick breath. Something is very wrong. What am I thinking? I'm getting confused and right now I have to start thinking clearly. His eyes opened wide and his mouth dropped open. Oh my God! he gasped. Am I beginning to serve It too! Somehow It must have gotten to me! Still I don't feel any different. Of course these people said they didn't feel anything, either. I have to be under some very mild power of suggestion. If not, I certainly wouldn't be thinking like this! The power to change my convictions without me being aware of it presents a very serious threat! A threat that must be neutralized! Stop shaking George. Just concentrate on regaining control of yourself. It isn't around you any longer and you have to overcome whatever hold It might have already gained. The threat could be much greater than you could ever have imagined. Somehow you have to think of a way to make these people understand. He looked at the man riding in front of him then turned enough to see the women and his shoulders slumped. He shook his head. But how? There's only one thing I know for sure. Right now I need to clear my own thoughts of aliens entirely.

His wish for a diversion appeared almost immediately. To cross the stream again required going down a steep cut toward a bank being undercut by the high water. He watched Roy Foster push his horse forward and unquestioningly it slid down the bank and landed with four feet spread wide in the water. As the rope attaching his mount to Foster's came taut, Red moved his hind legs further forward, dropped slightly in front then leaped out into the rushing water. Even though it was somewhat uncomfortable in handcuffs, Fox appreciated the saddle horn. He was glad he was holding on tight as they landed abruptly in the water. He felt the sudden impact through his many sore spots, but admitted the feeling had to be far superior to leaping in on foot.

The two animals forged forward toward the other side while the remaining horses singly repeated the coup de grace. Crossing a deep spot Fox had to lift his feet up to keep water from flowing in his shoes. He looked back in time to see the others quietly following the path provided by the leader. Once across the water he held on tightly as the animal lunged easily up the bank on the other side. I can hardly believe the confidence I have developed in this beast, he thought. I might enjoy riding him if he didn't have to trot so much. They moved on.

That crossing had me back in survival mode and allowed me to clear my mind, Fox confirmed. I'm back in control over those strange thoughts of earlier. Since the trail has smoothed, my body is aching less. Actually I think I'm becoming numb to the pain. He smiled. Through all this adversity, I really can 'take a licking and keep on ticking'**.**

When Fox saw the one-mile marker on the right, he grimaced. Soon another situation will become reality. When we ride out of here there's going to be a lot of explaining to do to a large force of law enforcement. Now that I've divulged Forrester's apparently well hidden secret to these people, I have to hold on to them until the agency can take over for a proper debriefing. I can take whatever Wade has to dish out for my breach of orders, but worse than facing Wade's wrath is coming out of this wilderness to face Wylie, empty handed and wearing my own handcuffs.

What can I do or say to the man to stop him from asking all his normally idiotic questions in front of a raft of law enforcement? I already have the necessary clearance from the locals to arrest Forrester, but these civilians are entirely another matter. I can't just tell Wylie he has to get these people away and into isolation right in front of the civil authorities. While I'm doing that, the three of them will be eagerly giving statements to support their claims against me. To take them, I will have to file charges.

I can't deny they do have charges to file and an officer's duty is to listen, and record. Just a claim of national security and my badge at the scene isn't going to stop them from demanding their statements be taken. That's only going to raise the need for more statements. I knew I was violating the law when I had the helicopter fly me into a restricted area. The ranger will verify he told me the rules and officially refused assistance.

Fox sighed deeply. I also can't deny the weapon they confiscated is mine. Its registration is a matter of record. I also can't deny I had it loaded. It still is, and my and Fosters fingerprints will be on it. Ballistics will also verify its recent firing. It's also true I threatened them with it. The tranquilizer rifle I signed for is on Mrs. Doran's saddle and out in plain sight. These people also have the tranquilizer bag. When confronted with the facts, it's going to take quite a bit to explain why I felt justified in using a drug without first reading the label. It being an animal tranquilizer is going to make it sound even worse.

There is no question in my mind that my authority and methods can and will be challenged by these people and even the Agency may not be able to cover for me. Some of the charges are jurisdictional and when a complaint is filed, in the eyes of the courts, an officer of the law cannot break laws to enforce them. The possibility of walking away in complete control and with these people wishing to be heard might not be as easy as I first figured. Right now it's beginning to look impossible.

Carrying it off would depend on getting Wylie to comprehend the seriousness of the situation with only a few words passing between us. With Wylie being my only hope, I can understand why I am beginning to feel there might be none. I can't allow these people to repeat what I tried to tell them. I also feel they plan to contact the press and the civilian authorities. If they do I'm not going to be able to keep the press out of the picture. I also don't desire to see the Sheriff in Wenatchee again.

George Fox heaved a heavy sigh. Not only have I lost the alien again but my breach of orders makes it necessary I keep my back-up troops away from these people. All this I have to do with Wylie asking stupid questions about why I'm securely fastened to this horse. Mulling this over, I have to conclude the only way to salvage some credibility with Wade and the most important goal of maintaining secrecy about my job, is to try compromise. If they won't agree and start relating what I said about Forrester, I'll sound even more ridiculous than I must look now. My forces may have to take me into custody as well until the charges can be put into proper perspective. He frowned deeply. I could end up being detained for a mental evaluation. A repeat of landing in the psycho ward while the alien puts more miles between us makes me shiver. Like when the Wayburn woman confronted me, I must try backing down gracefully and make them an offer they can't refuse.

Fox took a deep breath then blew it out. I'm afraid convincing these people of anything isn't going to be an easy task. Too many words have already been exchanged. Like so many others who have helped the alien escape, I have to attempt to settle this before it's too late ... and too late is not much further down this trail. Tactics dictate I threaten them again with charges that are facts... then offer a compromise. His shoulders drooped noticeably. Why me? Why am I always the one caught in the middle? A humble George Fox gathered what little pride he had remaining. "Everybody? Can we stop and talk again?"

"I think we hashed everything out pretty well earlier," Roy replied. "Unless you want to tell us the truth, I don't want to listen to anything more you have to say. We would like to ride out of here today."

It was a difficult word to say, but George Fox knew he must. He gritted his teeth. "Please?" he asked. "I have a proposal of compromise to offer you."

"A compromise!" Roy repeated in surprise. "What could you possibly offer that could interest us in the least?"

"At least listen to me," Fox implored. "Right now you have nothing to lose but a few minutes of your time. In exchange for those few minutes, you may be saving many years if this matter has to go before a judge."

Roy stopped Monty, whirled him around and pressed him head to tail alongside Red. As Kathy and June moved in closer, he again looked Fox in the eye. "Okay, we're listening, but this better be good."

Fox reaffirmed the delicate nature of his job and his orders to maintain secrecy. He again challenged them to come into the laboratory, but, as expected, received an out and out rejection. Cooperation is out so give compromise your best shot, George. "I realize you're not convinced I have been telling you the truth, so first I want to offer you some very good advice. Think it through carefully before you reject it. This compromise will require give and take on everybody's part."

"We're ready to leave everything to the courts, Mr. Fox," Roy fired back.

"Look, I'm not going to try to mislead you," Fox offered straight up. "I would like to avoid getting the courts into this. Our government has ordered me to bring Paul Forrester and the boy to them at any cost and to keep things under wraps, if at all possible. I've breached that order and I could be in trouble with my superiors if you do as you're threatening. Believe me; I'll live through it with no more than some minor scars."

"You know we have a good case to present, don't you," Roy returned.

"Your case is only good if you can get it heard," Fox returned with complete confidence. "I want to remind you of the connotation that goes along with 'Federal Security'. In this particular case, any compromise I make toward retaining what your government has deemed to be in our nation's best interest is within my authority. I also feel free to try to compromise our personal differences, for basically, you did direct many of your illegal and chargeable actions directly toward me. If we arrive at a mutual agreement, in a little while we can quietly part company. But if you force me to bring the Agency into this to justify my actions, I'm telling you right now, you are all in very deep trouble."

"As are you, and I believe you know it," Roy returned caustically.

Fox, certain of his position, ignored the remark. "I already have clearance with the authorities waiting for us or they wouldn't be waiting," he stressed. "Unless we have an agreement before we reach them, I will order you all moved directly to a secure federal facility. I assure you, you will disappear into the federal system and be subject to a full, military style, debriefing. The length of your stay as guests of our government will depend upon my Agency's success in apprehending Forrester and the boy. The longer they remain at large the longer you can expect to be detained. With Forrester's unusual ability to obtain assistance in escaping, that could be a very long time. Perhaps years."

"If your agency has such power, why are you proposing a compromise at all?" Roy asked.

"Basically, because I don't want to have to file all the required paperwork involved in your arrests," Fox returned.

"Well you had better get ready to start writing," Roy replied, decisively.

"I would also like to give you some very good advice," Fox continued, "for if you insist on carrying on about your government searching for alien life forms, you will all remain isolated while being held in that federal facility." Unblinking, he looked Roy in the eye.

"Do you have more threats to make?" Roy asked, tongue in cheek.

"Yes, in fact, if you like to talk threats," Fox continued. "If, by some stretch of the imagination I must enter the court system to defend my actions at any trial level, I can assure you the government will deny the very existence of my job description. I might get a slap on the hand for over enthusiasm for my work; I might even have to accept a transfer to another office. At the very worst I might be walking the streets of Washington looking for another job, but I can assure you, you will all be doing hard time in a federal prison."

"On the basis of your fantasy?" Roy shot back.

"No, the charges would be for obstruction of justice and assault on a federal officer in the performance of his duty," Fox stated forcefully. "Those charges the Agency must prosecute if they wish to maintain the respect of the people. Apprehending Forrester, or anyone else, I am officially on duty around the clock and whether or not the arrest was upheld I did properly identify myself to you. Believe me, those charges will be prosecuted." Fox looked sharply from one to the other for effect. "For whatever reason, your government wants Forrester and his son very badly, but they do wish to keep this whole matter under wraps."

"You don't have a leg to stand on, Fox, and you know it," Roy replied. "When we tell the papers and the TV people about your actions and accusations against Paul, you and your agency will be a laughing stock of..."

Fox interrupted confidently and his look commanded respect. "You'll never see a line in a newspaper, or a face on television, Mr. Foster. The power of the Federal Security Agency can and will quash any coverage. As you said to me in a far different situation, 'this is no idle threat'."

"You can't do that," Roy returned.

"Would you really like to make a bet on it?" Fox offered with undeniable certainty. He cocked his head slightly sideways. "It's a challenging wager." He looked at June and at Kathy then back to Roy. His eyebrows rose then fell and a subtle smile appeared on his face. "Is the possible loss of your freedom, and that of two of your family a high enough price to pay in exchange for my job?"

"You're bluffing!" Roy returned decisively.

"As your now 'absent friend' might say just 'look me in the eye'."

There was not even a flicker of an eyelash Roy could see to denote Fox was anything other than convinced of his position. Is that only a poker face I see, he thought, or is he really holding all the aces? Roy held on to his eye contact. I wonder? The very way he speaks the name, 'Federal Security Agency', almost makes one believe his words. Roy broke eye contact to glance at June and Kathy. Returning, he caught Fox's cold, unchanging look. I do have to question silencing the media, he wondered holding his best poker face, but I have heard of such things before in secret government matters. If so we could be in trouble. He took in a deep breath then slowly let it out. Without the media we would lose the power of public opinion demanding an investigation into government wrongdoing.

I know they're listening now, Fox thought with satisfaction, so he continued with what he hoped would be that offer not easily refused. "The other reason I know you're going to accept my proposal is I'm asking you on Forrester and Scott's behalf. When we spoke yesterday, Forrester told me outright ... whether he is, or isn't as I described, he definitely does not wish any publicity. It is definitely not to his advantage that his – situation - whatever it really is, become common knowledge."

"Why not? It would get you off his back?" Roy reiterated.

Fox smiled as he thought about his earlier discussions with the alien. "Either way, that will not happen. I guess from my point of view, I can understand his. He fears me, and our government, far less than he does other factions. I don't think I need to explain the danger to him your disclosure could present, if he is ... or isn't, as I described. Apparently he didn't trust you enough to confide in you until I came on the scene."

"He did say it was better we didn't know," June interjected. "But what could be so bad he'd accept what you've been doing to him, rather than asking for assistance from the public?"

"Mrs. Foster, I'm only relaying what he said to me," Fox returned.

Roy, contemplating, continued to study the man's smug and unemotional look. He finally turned to June and Kathy. "I have to agree about publicity if Paul does have something he'd rather hide. Knowing Paul, we know what Fox said can't be true, but if we go public, Paul could have half the governments and most of our world's lunatics after him."

With compromise beginning to gel, Fox carried on. "I'm going to continue to be honest with you. Forrester's aversion to publicity will work in my favor. My job is to continue to pursue and apprehend him and his son, but I will agree to file no charges against you for your actions over the past three days. In exchange I expect your promise to remain silent about what I said to you under the influence of drugs and a possible concussion. That promise of silence means you tell absolutely no one, not even other members of your own family."

Roy shook his head and frowned deeply then tried a new tactic. "If you trust us to keep your secrets why can't you trust us enough to tell us what Paul is really involved in? He said you wanted some information from him."

"That's basically correct."

"Then why keep giving us the run-around? We all realized, long ago, that he's a foreigner." He tried probing further. "If he's been dealing with your agency maybe it's scientific espionage?" Fox's look never faltered. "Star wars technology ... or the race for space?" At Fox's continued stoic stare, Roy frowned. "CIA?"

"You wouldn't believe what I told you before, so why should I offer you something else not to believe?" Fox finally advised, flatly.

My 'you only have to nod or look surprised', ruse hasn't worked either, Roy thought. The man isn't going to tell us anything. He looked questioningly at June and Kathy.

Fox turned from one to the other his eyes cold and determined. "If you enter into an agreement with me and do not honor it, I will probably lose my job. At that time I can guarantee you the agency I represent will cause you a world of grief. Think about your farm while you're isolated in a federal prison, Mr. and Mrs. Foster. And what about your family, Mrs. Doran? How well will they handle your disappearance?"

"This isn't fair," Kathy offered. "You really might be bluffing."

Fox chuckled challengingly. "Believe me, not many things in life are fair, Mrs. Doran. In bargaining we play our cards to our best advantage. It just so happens, this time I know I hold all the aces. There's a lot at stake in this wager. If you truly think I'm bluffing all you have to do is call to see my hand when we ride out of here."

"Do I understand exactly what you're offering?" Roy questioned a grimacing frown on his face. "You'll dismiss any and all charges you or your agency might have against us in exchange for our silence about the alien crap?"

"I can only speak for myself as each of you can only speak for yourself," Fox returned. "If we reach an agreement this will all remain private between us. If you honor our commitment, the Federal Security Agency will not become involved. If we don't agree, or any of you chose not to honor the obligation you make, you will leave me no option. I will have to put the entire matter into their hands for final disposition. Believe me, the speed at which your lives will change if you breach your nation's security, will surprise you."

"I think I prefer trusting the courts and the media more than making a deal that puts him back after Paul again," June replied indignantly. "Paul feared what he just described for us, happening to him and Scott. I think we might have the ability to get him off their backs."

A stony faced Fox addressed her opposition. "The important word is 'might', Mrs. Foster. But, if I'm not after them I can assure you someone else will be assigned to the job."

"I don't know, Hon," June said with a frown. "Our charges against him are real. This compromise might only buy Paul a little time."

Fox began to review his earlier doubts and, somewhat for his own peace of mind, he thought momentarily about the offer the alien had deemed personally unacceptable before returning to the present. "Okay, I'll offer one more thing in exchange for your silence. When I do catch them, and believe me, I will; I'll remain with them during whatever questioning the government might conduct. I will make sure they're both treated with proper respect."

"But we'll never know anything about what happened to them?" June asked with concern.

"I'm afraid that's true," Fox replied, "but it's the best I can do. I'll keep my end of the bargain if you keep yours." Fox spoke very slowly, looking each in the eye. "Do we have a deal?"

The three dismounted. Leaving Fox chained to the saddle, they tied the horses and retreated a short distance for a private conference. "We recognized there would be certain risks when we committed ourselves to helping Paul escape," Roy said, scratching his head, "but Fox has brought up much more for us to think about. Perhaps there are benefits to accepting his offer. It means giving up some form of revenge for what he has done to us, in exchange for our silence about his crazy story."

"He is right, he did display his badge and ID." Kathy offered. "It's also true he said he was making an arrest."

"Yes, and he did have a warrant," Roy confirmed. "Though I still think it is legally questionable, some judge did see fit to sign it. Its validity without the charges is a legal question I can't swear to for sure. Under the law, our actions might be construed as interference with an officer doing his duty. If a judge or jury upholds those charges, it's probable obstruction of justice and assault charges could be upheld as well."

From where he sat, Fox could see their constant glances in his direction and knew they were carefully considering his offer. He wanted to give them adequate time to decide, but finally called: "If we have a deal, come over here and remove these handcuffs. We'll all ride out of here just like nothing ever happened. I'll avoid some embarrassment, you some hard time and Forrester and his son unwanted exposure."

"Since Paul must be safely away by now, I can't see where we have anything much to lose," Roy whispered.

"Paul did say he wanted to talk to this man and see if he could come to some agreement, so why shouldn't we?" June whispered in return. They exchanged looks. "I think it's logical. I also feel sure Paul would say we should forget our anger and thoughts of revenge." All nodded consent. June reached into her pocket for the keys and walked over to Fox. "We have a deal."

########################################

Why did I agree to take Scott into the mountains? Cal thought as he drove the highway toward the trailhead. For almost two days I've tried to convince him his fears about his father are unfounded, but he insisted he had to go. At first I was greatly annoyed, but now I think I'm awed by this total commitment to his father. It's a thing rarely seen in teenagers. The other day, when Scott said he could 'feel' something was wrong, I wanted to laugh. I'm glad I didn't because I know he believes it. I've heard of such things before and both Roy and June talk often of noticing a special closeness between them. In addition to what I have observed myself, and what the rest of the family says, Amy talks incessantly about Scott. She told her mother that before they started going out, Scott wanted her to know his father's work meant they couldn't stay for long. Still she gave her attentions freely. Amy has been so happy the past couple of months.

Cal glanced into the rear view mirror. He could see Amy sitting close to Scott and heaved a sigh. My Amy is a levelheaded girl for her fifteen years, and Scott has been honest and up front with her. I have to respect him for that sensitivity to her feelings. Can Amy be wrong? Even as a child she has always been extremely sensitive to the feelings of others, I guess because of the prejudice she has experienced from time to time as a Mexican/American. She has developed into what I call a natural social worker type and always has proven a good judge of character. She was the faculty selection for the Natural Helpers program at school and for three years has counseled many teenagers through serious family and personal problems. It was really for Amy, I worked at convincing Scott to come to the seminar instead of going with his father. I can't believe it. I'm the father of a teenage girl and I wanted her to have these two additional weeks with a boy.

I got arrangements made to leave the seminar later in the week figuring it would buy me time. I thought Scott would get involved in the classes and forget this nonsense. Instead, he got increasingly disturbed. I know for sure, if I didn't take him he was going to bolt and I would have to leave the seminar anyway. So here we are, getting ready to carry our gear and all the extra groceries June requested up to Spanish Camp on our backs. In a couple of days the horses would be doing the packing for us. I even had to rent the backpacks and scrounge some things to use tonight. It's a long way and we can't possibly make Spanish Camp in one day, especially with these oversize packs. We needed shelter and food preparation goods for today and tomorrow morning. He glanced at Scott sitting in the back seat. This is super stupid, Doran, he chastised then his eyes rolled and he shook his head. Teenagers!

Cal turned the car off the highway onto the trail access road. He heaved a heavy sigh. Oh well. When we get into camp Scott will see his father is fine and we'll join the group. If a Forest Ranger happens along and wants to press the party restriction of twelve, we'll receive a citation for having one too many. I guess that's a chance I have to take to maintain peace. He sighed as he drove toward the trail parking area. I can already feel that load pulling down on my shoulders as I puff up those steep parts of the trail. His pained expression suddenly disappeared and he became alert. He saw several police cars forming a barrier across the start of the trail and many uniformed officers standing around in groups. When he noticed Roy's truck and June's car were the only other vehicles around, he decided to drive closer to find out what was going on. At their approach, a tall man in a dark business suit left his group and started walking toward the barrier signaling to stop.

In panic, Scott ducked down behind the back seat. "Oh no! Fox's buddy," he cried from the floor of the back seat as the car came to a stop. "Cal, I have to get away from here ... now. Please take off. The guy that's walking this way is looking for Dad and me. If he sees me, I'm finished. Please," he implored. "Take me some place where I can get by these cops. I have to warn Dad."

"Scott, stay down and quiet," Cal whispered. "I don't believe this is the time to ask what this is all about, but if I turn tail and run I don't think I'll get a chance to ask. These guys will be right behind us like a swarm of angry hornets. I'll find out what's going on." He turned to Amy and Sandy. "Come on, girls, ... out of the car. We have a friend in trouble and somebody is coming to talk to us. It's necessary we meet him halfway. Let's make this good." In calm haste, Cal got out of the car and with Sandy and Amy following, walked over to intercept Federal Agent Wylie.

As soon as the Dorans left, Scott took out his sphere and attempted to locate his father's. "Where are you, Dad?" he mumbled softly. "I know your sphere is out there. If you were trying to check on me, why did you give up? I haven't felt anything else for days." Scott tried concentrating harder, "Why didn't you make me practice instead of always insisting I use my time for lessons? If I couldn't get my sphere to work, all you said is maybe someday I'd know. Someday really isn't helping me now."

Cal looked around at the activity. "What's going on," he asked Wylie, "a law enforcement picnic?"

"This is no picnic, sir," Wylie replied confidently to the seventeenth party coming to, or from the trail the past two days. "This is an official police action. We suspect two fugitives might be coming down this trail."

"You've got quite a force for just two fugitives, officer...?" Cal asked, seeking a name.

Wylie whipped out his identification and displayed it. "Agent Benjamin Wylie … Federal Security Agency."

"Well Agent Wylie, may I ask who you're expecting ... Bonnie and Clyde?" Cal asked with a silly grin. "It looks like you've got enough manpower here to control a major riot."

"I'm not at liberty to say who, sir," Wylie relayed confidently. "But no one is being allowed access to this entire region."

"But we need to go in to meet with the rest of our party," Cal replied honestly.

"I'm sorry, sir. My orders are to admit no one."

"You're sorry," Cal replied with disgust. "What about the ones who are expecting us? They'll be worried something has happened to us."

"We're not really sure when the two we're waiting for will be coming, so it may not be reopening for some time. This is already the third day I've been here."

"Is there any way to get word in to them?"

"I am sorry, sir," Wylie repeated. "There's really nothing I can do. You can camp here if you wish, but under no circumstances will you be allowed onto any of the area trails into this area."

With her father's demonstrated cool, Amy decided to add her part. She looked at Wylie, and then at her father. "What is he trying to tell us, Pop? Do we have to wait until he says we can go?"

"Yes, darling daughter," Cal replied. "That is exactly what he's telling us."

"Well, what are we going to do?"

"We could camp here, but my suggestion is we just go home."

Sandy became a bit braver and added to what seemed like an interesting game. "But Mom and Gram'mom will worry," she said, turning her big blue eyes to Wylie. "You look like a nice man. Can't you just let us go anyway?"

"I'm sorry, honey," Wylie replied with compassion at the large, innocent blue eyes looking up at him. "You wouldn't want me to lose my job, would you?"

"I guess not," Sandy said with fluttering eyelashes and a straight face. Even her father frowned with concern as he looked back at his youngest. I have to sympathize with the young men who would soon be seeking the affections of this child.

"I guess Mom and Grandma will just have to worry." Cal turned back toward Wylie, "I suppose if that's the final word, we obviously can't run through your troops. If I call the Sheriff's Office will they know when the trail is open again?"

"I'll make sure they have that information," Wylie confirmed with a sigh of relief. He thought again of the many people whose vacations had already been ruined by Mr. Fox's alien.

Scott could plainly hear the ongoing conversation. "If Fox's buddy doesn't insist on escorting them to the car I think they'll be successful in covering for me. Please ... please," he mumbled repeatedly to the carpeting on the floor.

Cal, his voice rising slightly with impatience, said, "Come on girls. Let's go." He turned on his heel and hastily walked back toward the car.

Wylie followed a few steps then thought better of it. Sadly, he watched another disappointed group walk off.

Cal started the engine then gunning it did a wheelie in the loose gravel. The shower of dust and gravel left the agent coughing and dusting himself off as the car roared down the access road and turned west onto the highway toward home.

"Where are you going?" Scott asked with growing concern.

"I told you I'd take you to your father and I intend to do just that," Cal replied. "I know of another trail that accesses that one. Roy pointed it out to me years ago. He said it used to be the main trail and it joins up with the other a few miles up the valley. Most people don't know about it and those who do don't use it much because the owner of several pieces of land had it logged. If the police are over there too, I know several other ways to get up where they're camped, even if we have to climb up Spanish Camp Creek from the river. Scott, we're not giving up yet."

Cal glanced at Scott in the rear view mirror and shook his head. The poor kid looks like his world is ready to end. Maybe it's time to find out why. "Okay, Scott. I think it's time you tell us what this is all about. The guy we talked to is a Federal Agent. I am assuming from what you said, the two he thinks he's waiting for are you and your father. Why are they looking for you?"

"The guy is a Fed," Scott confirmed. "We think they want to ask Dad lots of questions about his work. For some reason they're afraid of him." Scott's lower lip began twitching as he tried to hold in his emotions, "But he isn't dangerous and he hasn't done anything wrong."

Cal turned off onto another narrow logging road. "Well, what have you done since it seems he's also looking for you?"

"I don't really know for sure," Scott returned, "but I think they'll try using me as bait to catch Dad. They've tried it before." Scott decided it was time to try 'slick' to further encourage his benefactor's desire to help. "We've always managed to get away because somebody decided to help us. Cal, Dad will be waking right into a trap. Please," he begged, "don't let them catch him. He's my Dad."

"This is serious then?" Cal asked.

"Yes," Scott confirmed apprehensively. "What are you going to do?"

"I have to think. First off, I know I need to talk to your dad before making a decision about what to do. If they just want to ask him some questions, maybe I can help get some dialog going. Maybe the problem can be resolved."

"They haven't listened to Dad before and believe me, they won't listen to you either," Scott returned confidently.

"I still want to discuss it with your dad," Cal replied firmly. He drove up a steep winding road for a couple of miles before glancing again into the rear view mirror to see how Scott was responding to his edict. Suddenly he jumped on the brakes and stopped the car.

"Why are we stopping?" Scott asked anxiously. He scanned the road ahead, ready to run. "Do you see more cops?"

"No cops, but I just saw somebody run out into the road behind us and I think it's your dad."

"Dad?" Scott questioned as his head spun around. He saw his father running clumsily up the road trying to wave his arms while carrying a bouncing duffel bag. Scott jumped from the car and dashing the remaining distance, threw his arms around him. "Thank God, you're okay."

Paul frowned and looked questioningly at his son. "Scott, what are you doing here?"

"We were going to hike in," Scott returned. "I thought my sphere was telling me something was wrong. Dad, we have to get away from here," he said excitedly. "I didn't see Fox, but the other guy that's usually with him was over where we were going to meet. Cal, Amy and Sandy covered for me and Cal knew about another trail over here. We were coming to warn you." Suddenly Scott looked curiously at his father. "What are you doing over here?"

"Fox found out we were at the farm," Paul confirmed quietly. He looked toward the car then anxiously at Scott. "Right now, everybody is coming. Tell me, how much do they know?"

"Well they talked with Fox's buddy and he identified himself, so I confirmed the Feds are after us. I told him they wanted to ask you questions, but also that we hadn't done anything wrong. Like with Dale, I think Cal believes it's something he can help us fix. He wanted to talk to you before deciding what to do so we were going to hike in." Scott looked into his father's concerned face. "How did Fox find us again?" He saw his father's normal, calm confident look reappear.

"Shh," Paul whispered. "Cal and the girls are almost here."

"Hello Paul," Cal said, as they walked over. He looked at Paul suspiciously. "I'm rather surprised to find you here." Then puzzled, he looked around. "Where's everybody else?"

"Roy told me to come over here. They all volunteered to meet the police for me." Paul turned to his son. "Roy gave me a map showing me where to find you and showed me the trail over here." He tactfully told of the family's offer.

"Paul, will you tell me what's going on?" Cal demanded. "Scott says the Feds are after you. May I ask what they want?"

"Believe me, Cal, it's best not to know anything," Paul said confidently. "Scott told me you helped him when he saw the government agent. I can't thank you enough for the risk you took."

"I'd like to know exactly how much risk I was taking," Cal replied with concern.

"You could be risking a great deal just being with us."

"Paul, you should try to straighten this out. Let me take you back to the trailhead ..."

"Please, don't do that," Paul interrupted anxiously.

Cal observed the intensity of the response. "I'd like to do whatever I can to help as long as I'm not putting myself or the families at risk. I'll tell you what I'll do. I'm going to go back and try to find out if there's some common ground to work on. There has to be a solution, but somebody has to take the first step."

"Cal, talk isn't going to help us, but you can prepare to help your family."

"What?" Cal replied with a puzzled frown.

"They have already helped me and soon may need your help very much. Roy seemed to have something in mind to handle things. There is nothing you can do now, except wait."

Cal turned back toward the car. "I'll go help them."

"Please don't do that either!" Paul said emphatically. "Give Roy a chance before any more of you get mixed up in our problems." Paul felt anguish at Cal's confused look and those of the two young ladies standing beside him. "If Roy's idea doesn't work, they're going to need somebody the government can't hold for anything."

"Paul, you're talking crazy."

"Believe me, I know what I'm talking about. Don't go back to the trailhead."

Cal felt unable to further question the knowing look on Paul's face. "Well what do you suggest I do?" he asked somewhat impatiently.

"Don't do anything. Take the girls and go back to the seminar. Stay there. If somebody hasn't contacted you before the meeting time, go to a newspaper, or television. Talk to anybody you think will listen. Tell them you know the Federal Security Agency has taken your family into custody. Avoid being alone with any of their agents and don't let anyone know Scott was with you when you talked to the agent earlier."

"But they'll surely find out he was with us at the seminar."

"Tell them he ran away ... anything." Paul paused momentarily and looked directly at Cal to obtain eye contact. "Of course there is another option."

Cal looked at Paul questioningly. "What?"

Paul, realizing he had to offer said, "You could just turn us over to them."

Cal looked sympathetically at Paul then Scott. "Wouldn't it be better, if you went to them on your own?"

Paul lowered his eyes. "Believe me, it wouldn't make it any better for either of us."

"Paul, you can't just keep on running. If you've done something wrong, face it, pay the price and get on with living."

Paul lifted his eyes to meet Cal's. "It's very complicated, Cal." His look never faltered. "If only it were that simple, I would have done whatever it required long ago. Being on the run is no fun, but right now I believe it is our only option."

Cal looked back critically. "You should be considering Scott's future."

"Scott's future depends on us remaining free. If they catch us, he won't have a future. We'll disappear into the government system, probably never to be seen or heard of again. I'm afraid of something similar happening to the rest of the family. That's why it's important you not go over to the trailhead meeting. You, Amy and Sandy could all disappear with them. Somebody has to remain on the outside."

"That's a strange thing to say about the government, Paul. Tell me what it is they have on you?"

"They have nothing ... on me," Paul replied, using Cal's words. "They want me because of who I am, and information they believe I can provide."

"Tell me then, what do they want?"

"As I already said, it's best you know nothing. Knowing will only put you all in jeopardy."

"This is crazy."

"Dad, let's go," Scott interjected anxiously. "I don't want Cal to take us back. I don't want to live the rest of my life in some cage. I want to stay free and I want to be with you."

Cal, a grim look on his normally pleasant face, looked at Sandy standing silently by, and then at Amy's anxious face. He finally motioned everybody back to the car. Paul threw the duffel onto the front seat beside Sandy and without a word started toward the back door.

"No," Scott pleaded. "Don't go with him, Dad!" He watched his father climbing into the back beside Amy and reluctantly followed. Cal drove up the road further, found a place to turn around, and started back toward the highway. "Cal, please," he begged again. "Don't turn us over to them. We haven't done anything wrong."

Cal stopped the car, turned and looked into the back seat at the two thinking over Scott's words. What is Scott saying? He's old enough to know right from wrong. It's also obvious they've been on the run for some time already. Whatever they're running from must really be serious to cause this strong a reaction in a teen who should still possess the sense of immortality of his youth. What can our government possibly want with them that this boy is afraid of ending up in jail? He met Paul's look again, frowned and heaved a sigh. "If the folks and Kathy decided to help you, Paul, how can I do otherwise? Where do you want me to take you?"

Letting out a deep sigh of relief, Paul replied. "Just leave us here. We'll walk the rest of the way. I don't want you to take any chance of you being seen with us."

Paul and Scott got out and Cal pushed the almost empty duffel out through the window. "Don't worry, I'll take your advice and be as clear of suspicion as possible. I just wish you'd tell me what to expect."

Paul looked at Cal sympathetically, "All I can say is I believe the government will back off if you have outside help available."

At seeing Paul's concern, Cal nodded. "The best of luck to you."

"Thank you, and the best of luck to all of you, too. If we are successful in getting away, I'll call you at the school two weeks from today. I want to know everything is all right. What time would be best?"

"Eight in the morning or around 12:30. I'll make sure I'm around the department phone."

"If I can't get you," Paul returned, "I'll assume something has gone wrong and try to help."

Cal smiled. "As I'm sure you can remember I'm pretty resourceful when I want to be. Remember, I convinced you to give a lecture and see what happened."

I remember Cal's very open approach at the Seattle Center almost sent us off at a dead run, Starman mused. He smiled appreciatively. "You were convincing at that." As he lifted the duffel, Paul suddenly remembered something else. "Cal, with what's waiting for Roy, June and Kathy at the truck, I think you know you're not going to get your mountain trip. I'm really sorry, but may I ask another favor?"

"Sure," Cal replied, half-heartedly.

"We need to get Scott's things and in case we have to camp out can I borrow another sleeping bag? The bag Roy and June let me use got wet on the trail and they have it with them."

Without question Cal handed Paul the keys. "Take mine as the extra. It's the blue one". Paul got Scott's clothing and two sleeping bags out of the trunk then returned the keys. "We'll mail everything back as soon as we can."

"Fine," Cal confirmed, despondently.

Paul smiled weakly, "I guess this is good-bye. I want to thank you for the good times we have to remember."

"You really should straighten this all out Paul," Cal offered again with increased conviction and a negative shake of his head. "Then you can live a normal life and hopefully decide to become teachers. You're both naturals and not too many people can lay claim to that ability."

"Perhaps someday that will be possible," Paul replied. "I never give up hope, but now we must continue to run."

As Scott approached, Amy rolled the window down. He gently took her hand and gave it a squeeze. Then seeing tears in her eyes, he put his head in through the window and gave her a reserved kiss on the cheek. "I'll write, I promise."

Sandy moved to the window, waited momentarily as her sister moved away from the back window. Trying to appear brave through her youthful shyness, she stuck her hand out the window toward Scott. "Put it there, Dude."

Scott smiled broadly as they smacked hands together. "Thanks for the acting job earlier, Dude," he laughed, raising and lowering his eyebrows as he often saw his father do. He quickly ducked through the open window and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek.

Sandy giggled and her face turned red. "Rad."

Paul leaned down, looking in the car window at Cal. "Please be careful."

Cal stuck his hand out and they shook. "I will," he replied. Extending his hand toward Scott he received a willing hand in return.

"Good-bye" Scott offered, "and thanks for everything."

They stepped back away from the car and as it started moving heard Cal. "Amy, ... Sandy, this is our revised plan, we..."

%%%

Paul stuffed one sleeping bag and Scott's clothes into the duffel and hung it over his shoulder. He handed Scott the second bag to carry and side-by-side they started walking back up the roadway. For a brief time Scott followed his father, and then he couldn't keep himself contained any longer. "Uh ... Dad ... I think you're lost. You're going the wrong direction. The way to British Columbia, or Iowa, or Florida, is down the hill. You're taking us back into the mountains."

"I don't want to leave this area until I know everyone is all right." Paul advised. "Roy told me to find a safe place to hide. I think Spanish Camp is a perfect place to do so." Paul raised his eyebrows as he smiled at his son. "This way we will have an opportunity to share it. When we left this morning it was snowing and we had to leave a lot of things up there. I'd like to get mine back. Going this direction we will have a place to hide with all the comforts of home."

Scott frowned as he observed a silly grin on his father's face. "You're the boss, Kimo-Sabe."

Walking up the road together, Scott glanced over at his father a couple of times. Noticing something he had missed earlier, he took hold of Paul's arm and stopped him. "You sure scratched up your face." Paul reached up and put his finger on the scab that had formed on his forehead. He then noticed his shirt-cuff had pulled back, exposing a portion of the red and purple bruises on his wrist. Not wanting to explain, he smoothly lowered his arm and worked the sleeve down again. He felt relieved as he looked back at Scott, for his son had apparently not noticed the bruises. Instead, Scott was looking intently at his face.

Scott started to grin. "What happened to your eye?"

"Something is wrong with my eye?" Paul questioned.

"Dad, I believe I'm looking at a shiner."

"A what?"

"You've got a black eye." Scott thought momentarily, and then began to chuckle. "What did you do, run into a door out there in the wilderness?"

Paul looked quizzically at his son, still uncertain about what Scott was describing. Then he remembered another eye problem incurred in Phoenix. The area around my eye must be discolored like it was when that not so friendly acquaintance of my host, hit me. He smiled knowingly. "Not a door. I think it was a tree I jumped into," he offered truthfully.

Scott continued examining the various wounds, and then pointed. "From the looks of it you did a real number on that cut. Why didn't you fix it?"

"Everyone saw it happen."

"It must have hurt."

"It did, but it doesn't anymore." Not wanting to get trapped into explaining his missing sphere, Paul started walking again. "It itches now so I guess it's starting to regenerate tissue. I guess I'll just let it finish healing on its own."

The clouds were clearing and the temperature was continuing to rise as they hiked the side trail. Before they reached the place Paul had said good-bye to Roy, the sun began appearing more and more often, bathing the now snow covered peaks in a glorious coat of white. Soon they reached the main trail, doubling back on the route Paul had been over earlier as George Fox's prisoner.

########################################

As Fox and the family rode toward the end of the trail, Fox began wondering. Will these people honor their commitment? I really know very little about them, their theology or principles. Though I know they must be under alien control, having spent over two months with it, I must admit, like with the Taylors, outwardly they appear to be quite normal. When I confronted them with the legal consequences of their actions, they displayed an above average ability to reason. Though they still insist on supporting their alien, they do seem quite normal. I guess my questions will have to remain unanswered until I catch up to the alien again.

Even though I've lost Forrester, at least I've made some definite progress. I have some idea of how they take control of the victim. Anyone who openly supports alien life as benevolent, who joins into groups, writes songs, stories, or produces movies, will send up a red flag that they might be in one's service. I guess I should be able to trust these people's word by relying on the principle that their silence applies directly to their personal alien's safety.

Roy, June and Kathy, familiar only with Fox's actions at camp, hoped they had not sold Paul and Scott's freedom for theirs. The final distance out of the wilderness passed quickly in multiple, soul searching silence.

From his position in the rear, Fox began noticing distinct changes in the forest-sheltered trail they had been on for several miles. Ahead he could see a large opening and a few hundred yards later he heard voices.

"Would you get word to Agent Wylie that another mounted group is coming out. I think he's in the van catching a few Z's."

As Fox rode out onto the gravel road, he saw three small groups of uniformed men coming toward them with weapons drawn. Two officers grabbed Foster's horse, and Fox saw his companions drop their reins and raise their arms submissively. He observed one officer rushing toward a van parked a short distance away. On the door he saw the logo of the local Chelan County Sheriff's office. He finally recognized the familiar voice that belonged to the County deputy who had freely offered his help a couple of months earlier in Wenatchee. Before anyone could stop him, he urged his horse to move on toward him.

"Officer Frasier," he announced, casually, but loud enough so everybody could hear. "Remember me ... George Fox? I'm glad to see you're here. Will you please tell everybody to relax? There's been a mistake. Everything is all right and you can go home." As Frasier acknowledged and passed on the order, Fox turned the horse around. Moving back toward Roy, he gave the signal to proceed. When lowering arms met with no resistance, Roy moved Monty down the roadway.

As they rode the last one hundred feet toward the parked truck, Fox turned painfully in the saddle then back again. He was relieved when he saw Frasier calling the men together. He also saw the dispatched officer arrive at the van. As they moved down the roadway Fox turned again to look. Happily, he saw officers heading toward cars while Officer Frasier continued on toward the van. He then saw Wylie climbing out. Some words pass between him and Officer Frasier, and then Frasier directed Wylie's attention their way. Quickly catching up with the mounted party at the truck, Fox dismounted and handed the reins to Roy.

Upon recognizing his boss in the distance, Wylie thought immediately of the first day waiting at the trailhead. I carefully kept in constant contact with all the other checkpoints all day. When Fox didn't show at any of them, I worried about what might have happened to him. All this time I have really been hoping the alien and his son would come my way. I could have proven to Mr. Fox that I am capable by having them both secured. His mouth contorted in disappointment. As usual, no such luck. I also know the aliens haven't come out of the mountains at any of the other checkpoints either. Now, two days later, Mr. Fox shows up without them and riding a horse. Right now there's only one thing I can be sure of. He's not going to be in a good mood. Wylie covered the distance to his superior in record time. At least he won't be able to direct one of his 'where have you been' tirades my way.

Wylie's speed in covering the distance surprised Fox. Then he saw his associate stop short, look at him, and frown. I can see his eyes searching me from head to foot. He looked down at himself. I really must look terrible. Of course I haven't washed, shaved or combed my hair for days. My suit is a mass of wrinkles from getting wet so many times. I'm filthy after sleeping on dirty horse blankets and must stink like a smoky wood fire and animal. Maybe my appearance will make Wylie assume things haven't gone well and he'll just keep his big mouth shut.

Fox coldly returned his associates look until he Wylie turned away. Now he's carefully scrutinizing my companions, he confirmed. From the bewildered look on his face I can tell he recognizes at least one of them from the descriptions we obtained during the investigation. I better start figuring the best way of handling him. Perhaps if I make some formal introductions, Wylie will be content to just listen. In a display of histrionics to do any Hollywood actor proud, George Fox gave his companions a friendly smile. "Roy, June, Kathy, may I introduce my associate, Benjamin Wylie. Wylie, Roy and June Foster, and Kathy Doran."

Offered each his hand, Wylie received theirs in return and repeated each name. He glanced at Fox again and frowned.

Fox knew from Wylie's look he was about to comment and decided to beat him to it with a low, "Forrester got away again."

"Forrester got…?" Wylie started repeating. "What about...?" He stopped mid-sentence as he saw his boss put a forefinger up toward his lips as Deputy Frasier approached. The caustic glance that accompanied it left no question that he shouldn't say more.

"I'll fill you in later," Fox offered as Deputy Frasier and another deputy arrived.

Fox turned back to Roy, June and Kathy, and with dignity expressed his reserve gratitude. "I want to thank you for taking me into your camp; for giving me food and shelter and offering me the use of one of your animals."

Frasier tapped Fox on the shoulder. "Mr. Fox, I would like to get heading home myself. I haven't seen my wife and son for almost three days." He motioned with a turn of his head over toward his vehicle, "First, I need to speak with you, in private?"

Fox acknowledged the request with a glancing nod in Frasier's direction, "I'll just be a couple of minutes," he offered. Frasier waited.

Wylie looked suspiciously at his boss again. It's hard to correlate Mr. Fox's actions with what I heard yesterday. I overheard a couple deputies talking about picking up a helicopter pilot who said Mr. Fox had shot somebody. I tried to get more information, but the deputies wouldn't say. Can he be in some kind of trouble? Is that why Dean wants to talk to him? Even though I know Mr. Fox figures if he can catch either the alien or the boy, he will get the other, I can't believe he would just shoot them. Since he gave me the tranquilizer outfit maybe that was all he could do? When he didn't show up I figured he must have them both in custody. Now, he rides in empty handed. I better listen to what he's saying or he'll certainly be on me again. Maybe I can get some idea of what really happened after he disappeared.

Fox glanced hopefully from June to Roy and then to Kathy. "If you change your mind about that matter we discussed and decide you do want to prove, or disprove a friendship, just call me ... day or night." He handed each one of his damp and slightly the worse for wear, business cards. "I'll make all the necessary arrangements." Again receiving no encouraging responses, he conceded, and nodding slightly, offered a gracious, "Have a safe trip home." He turned back toward Wylie. "I feel the subjects have surely left the area." These words received an energetic nod from his associate.

Fox now noticed the second deputy, was silently standing by, notebook in hand. It's pretty obvious he's waiting to talk to my companions. Fox fought back a growing apprehension. I would like to stay and make sure they honor their agreement. But, if they never planned to, I don't think me standing here will intimidate them anyway. I think Officer Frasier is getting impatient to leave for home.

Frasier and Fox, with Wylie trailing at their heels, walked toward the county van Wylie had been napping in. When Wylie announced he needed to retrieve his travel bag from inside, Frasier turned to Fox, saying softly, "I hate to tell you this Mr. Fox, but two citizens filed formal complaints about a helicopter flying somebody into the Alpine Lakes Wilderness Area. The Forest Service turned the investigation over to us. From its call numbers, we identified the helicopter. It's owned and operated by John Gross of Gross Flying Service out of East Wenatchee. I'm afraid his statement has involved you and added a firearms violation, both possession and discharge, to the unauthorized entry charge.

"The pilot said there was a possible injury from the discharge. That portion of the investigation is awaiting your statement and the appearance of anybody who might come in wishing to file an injury claim." Frasier reached into his pocket and removed some papers and displayed them. "I have a warrant for your arrest here, but in deference to your official position, the Sheriff told me if you hand over your badge and ID you can come in on your own tomorrow morning. I must caution you not to leave the area until this is settled to the Sheriff's satisfaction."

Fox heaved a heavy sigh and accepted the warrant. "I'd come in now, but I'm really, really tired. I'll come in tomorrow morning."

"Okay," Frasier confirmed. He put Fox's things into a manila envelope, sealed and labeled it, and then placed it on the front seat of his vehicle.

"I'll be staying in Wenatchee tonight," Fox offered. "I'll give you a call when I find lodging."

The second deputy walked over to join them carrying the tranquilizer rifle and the leather bag. He told Frasier he had everybody's statements. The confiscated items, likewise, received evidence tags. Both officers got into the van, adding the items to the other paperwork.

"Okay, Mr. Fox," Frasier said through the open window, "get a good night's rest. We'll be expecting you in the morning." Frasier started the van. As it began moving he mumbled his annoyance to his partner, "And so ends another three day stake-out for these Feds with little to nothing to show for it. Tomorrow morning will be spent writing out lengthy triplicate reports for submission to the offices involved."

Fox heaved another deep sigh as the van, his badge and ID rolled away. His shoulders drooped. My deal with the Foster's and Mrs. Doran was to avoid some of this, he thought. Still, I can understand the pilot's position when questions began flying. I also understand the deputy and the Sheriff's positions; they have jobs to do. He paused a long moment ... like I have a job to do. But right now, why do I feel less than enthusiastic about mine?

Fox turned to Wylie. "It appears I'm going to have to stay around here and get some things ironed out." He motioned toward the truck. "How long will depend on what those three told the deputy and how fast I can get some action out of Washington. While I take care of that, you get on arranging transportation home."

He looked at his watch. "The agency has secured for the day so I guess getting everything done will have to wait until morning. I want you on the first transportation out of here. Get into the office early tomorrow so I can have you liaison for me." He thought for a moment then ordered casually, "While you're there you might as well get back to monitoring the wire services and other information gathering sources. You know the routine. Oh, yes, I also want you to start gathering information about all alien related science fiction offerings this past year."

"Yes sir," Wylie acknowledged, less than enthusiastically, and then thought, it has already been another long investigation and stake out and I had other things in mind than spending my first day home back at work looking at satellite photos. Of course the science fiction stuff I always check anyway since it's always been more interesting… I have almost all the articles already in my desk.

Fox continued to stare at Wylie, trying to think of any other specific instructions the man might need. Wylie returned his persistent look and there was a long silence. Then Wylie lowered his eyes. Seeing the travel bag he still held in his hand, he looked up again, "Mr. Fox," he grimaced, "shouldn't we have asked Dean for a ride back to wherever you left the car?"

Fox's shoulders drooped even lower as he looked at the parking area. Only two vehicles remain and those I know belong to my less than enthusiastic hosts.

"Where do you have to go?" a voice asked.

"East Wenatchee, Pangborn Field," Fox replied. He stood straight, ready to accept a ride, but his shoulders slumped immediately.

June, holding a small bundle in her hands, observed the distraught look on George Fox's face and smiled. "Don't look so worried, Mr. Fox," she offered cheerfully, handing Fox the batteries for the radio. "My car is here and we'll make sure you get to the airport. Kathy and I have to find a laundry to dry all of our stuff. East Wenatchee is further, but we'll take you." June glanced at Wylie, silently asking Fox if it was all right to talk freely in his presence. Receiving a nod, she continued. "I do want to tell you that Paul told us you're wrong about him. I know I'm not able to forgive as quickly as he does, but he specifically told me I shouldn't let your actions change how I feel about you as another human being. Giving a ride to someone who needs one is simply the right thing to do."

"Thank you," Fox replied sheepishly.

"We do understand you have to get back to your job," she offered, studying the man. Then she smiled at him. "I will admit you had us worried when we rode into all that law. The deputy who took our statements spotted the rifle almost immediately. He was very direct in his questions about a shooting. I'm sorry, but with his apparent knowledge and the rifle so obvious, we felt it proper to confirm that you did shoot Paul with a tranquilizer. He took the rifle so we gave him the leather bag."

She paused and took a deep breath, "Though it somewhat stretched the truth, we said Paul took off, seemingly unhurt. The deputy seemed satisfied and since he didn't ask to search our things, we decided you probably didn't want us to give him this." Unwrapping her bundle, she handed Fox his pistol then reached into her pocket. "I removed these when I dug your stuff out of the saddle bag. I didn't think you'd want this known either." She handed him the labeled vial of animal tranquilizer and the antidote.

Fox recognized the gesture as a distinct favor and took the weapon and the bottles with a gracious, "Again, thank you." The pilot, he thought, must have told the authorities I had a rifle and these people advised I used a tranquilizer in the assault, but now they don't know about the pistol or the sub-human grade tranquilizer. This lack of information and their statements will make compromising the charges against me somewhat easier. Fox followed June unquestioningly over to her car where Roy and Kathy were placing the last of the wet gear into the trunk. With Kathy in the front seat and Fox and Wylie in back, June drove toward East Wenatchee.

Fox really wasn't yet ready to tell his associate anything about how he felt over the past three days, particularly in front of the women. He closed his eyes and remained silent all the way to the airfield listening to Wylie's idle chatter with those who were again proving his benefactors.

June and Kathy followed Fox and Wylie into the terminal. They watched them walk up to a ticket counter together, and feeling confident the two agents were leaving they left the airport. Cautiously keeping a keen eye on the road behind them, they drove to the seminar to advise everybody they were all out of the mountains.

As Wylie ran to catch the turbo-prop flight readying for departure to Seattle, Fox went to the first car rental he saw. Soon he was leaving the airport. Now, I need to go see the pilot that flew me into the mountains and get things straightened out for him. It was getting dark by the time Fox drove back across the Columbia River into Wenatchee. He turned into the first available motel he found with a vacancy sign.

########################################

The weather had warmed considerably and most of the snow that had fallen during the storm had melted except on the high mountain peaks. Walking the steep, narrow trail single file did not offer Paul and Scott much chance for conversation. Stopping just before dark, their evening meal consisted of some blueberries hastily gleaned along the trail, and more found around their camp. When it got too dark to find any more berries they unrolled the sleeping bags onto the pieces of plastic Cal had wrapped around them and turned in for the night. As they exchanged goodnights, Scott lay in his sleeping bag pondering over why his father seemed unusually quiet after such a close call with Fox.

A dual growling in their stomachs awoke the fugitives very early. Since there was no food, they carried on with more blueberries found along the trail. They crossed the snow still remaining at Ladies Pass and shortly after noon strode boldly into the meadow at Spanish Camp. Paul, remembering the unpleasantness of the past days, walked uneasily past the main camp where the lean-to had stood and led Scott directly over to where they had stashed the abandoned food and camping equipment. "We'll have to set up a camp," he announced. "Luckily, we left an assortment of things to choose from."

Scott, amazed as he looked at the mound of abandoned things, couldn't keep from commenting. "Geeze. You guys sure left a lot of stuff just because of a little snow. You could have stuck most of it in these boxes and taken it with you."

"We were in a hurry," Paul offered defensively. "It was snowing hard."

"If you packed it in and you sure could have packed it out," Scott remarked critically as he set aside some things from one of the boxes. "Besides, I can hardly believe a little snow would chase Roy out. He was always talking about lots of snow when he went hunting. You're telling me he's not a real tough guy after all?"

Paul mulled over his son's observations as he searched through the second pack box for food items. Now that I have studied the map, I know there are many other ways to get out of this area. Some are steeper, but far shorter than the route we took. If we left because of the snow, it would seem logical to take the shortest route. Thinking back, Scott may be right. I don't think Roy was coming to help Fox after he fell off Red. June also said helping was their decision, not mine. Was it a decision made long before an opportunity arose? If not, it had to be a very timely coincidence. Paul looked back at his son. " Scott, I believe they were all tough, and good friends."

Scott continued digging through another pile of things wrapped in a tarp. Finding the camera bag, he turned to his father, speaking accusingly, "You left the camera?"

"There was a limit to what we could take with us. We didn't have enough time to pack everything," Paul offered, attempting to appease his son's always-curious nature. Thoughts of the past few days fleeted through his mind. Scott, how can I tell you how I felt when Fox told me with such conviction in his voice, that I wouldn't need it anymore? I felt defeated when I put it with the things to be abandoned. I'm thankful for this opportunity they gave me to continue.

Scott looked strangely at his father again as he looked into the camera bag. "You also left your exposed film."

"I forgot it."

"I don't believe this," Scott frowned. "You took your old clothes with you and left the camera and film?"

"I was wearing most of my clothes," Paul returned. "After all, it was snowing and cold."

Scott started rummaging through the things stacked between the two boxes. Soon a look of disbelief covered his face. "Now this I can't believe. You also left your new toy bed?"

"The air mattress kept me comfortable, but was expendable," Paul replied. "Besides, Roy was planning to come back for everything before winter. Remember, we also left some stuff at the house, like my leather and your denim jackets; our shoes and the balance of our clothes. When I call, I'll have to ask Cal to relay a message of where to send them." For the moment, Scott seemed satisfied and not wanting to answer any more probing questions Paul quickly changed the subject to one he knew would be closer to Scott's teenage heart. "I'm hungry. I've got the food and we have enough stuff for a camp. Let's make something to eat." He heard the, 'Right on', he expected of his son who had just hiked almost sixteen miles on two major meals of blueberries.

Paul gathered part of the goods set aside and headed down to where Roy, June and Kathy had their camp. Scott automatically gathered the rest and followed. "We'll set up our tarp under the trees," he said as he approached the site and placed the things he carried on the ground.

Scott immediately protested. "We passed a real nice place where we came in here. Why don't we pitch camp over there? It was bigger and level. I also saw a fire-pit so we can make a fire tonight."

Paul looked back toward the other camp. I think, unconsciously, I chose this site because I didn't want to be at the other, he thought. There are too many bad memories there, memories of being imprisoned by an innocent tree and futile attempts to reason with Fox. He returned his attention to Scott's argument and offered what he considered a logical reason. "We don't need a bigger one. This is adequate. We have a gasoline stove to cook on so we don't need a fire. Like I told Cal, we're going to do our best to hide."

"You really think it's necessary, here?" Scott countered, smugly.

"Right now we need to hide wherever we are," Paul offered. "We know Fox is around. We can hide ourselves, but we can't hide a bright blue tarp almost out in the open, can we?"

"Right," Scott conceded, shrugging his shoulders. "I heard Fox's buddy say no one was being allowed in here. We would be pretty obvious."

"Correct," Paul replied. Happy his son was now accepting this camp without further protest he returned to rummaging through the chosen food items. When he stood, he had some bread, cheese and a small bag of dried fruit. Together they walked to the creek with cups and sat down on some large rocks to eat in communion with nature.

With lunch behind us now, I have to face it, Paul thought. I must find my sphere. June said it rolled down the mountain from where they gave the CPR. "Scott, let's go for a walk," he suggested. With no objection from Scott, he took the lead off across the meadow toward the trail to the lower lake. Before reaching the place where he had been shot, he dropped down the hillside off the fisherman's trail, watching for the familiar cliffs. Finding them he judged them in the general area of his revival. Casually looking around he spotted the tranquilizer dart June had thrown aside a little further up the hill and turned to Scott. "Let me see your sphere?"

Scott was looking down at the precipice then turned to look back when he heard his father's request. "Sure," he replied. Turning around he took it out of his pocket and held it out to him. When Paul reached for it, Scott snatched it back, grinning impishly

"Please?" his father asked,

"You asked me to show it to you. You didn't say you wanted it."

Sticking his hand out further, Paul repeated his 'please.'

"What do you want it for?" When his father's hand remained out Scott slowly placed the sphere into the outstretched hand and watched as his father energized it. He continued watching with increasing interest as his father turn to address the hillside. He watched him moving his arm from left to right in a broad sweeping motion then followed. He watched the brightly glowing orb as they walked diagonally to the left up the steep hill. His father finally stopped and reached down into some bushes. When he pulled his hand back, there was a second brightly glowing sphere in it.

Paul put his sphere back into his pocket and held Scott's out to him with a casual, "Thank you."

Scott, now deep in thought, finally took his sphere from his father's outstretched hand. Now I understand there was more to returning to Spanish Camp than sharing its beauty and a safe place to hide, he thought. We had to come back. Here's my chance to get even for the wisecracks Dad's made about me losing mine. A smirk of self-satisfaction appeared on his face and his yes danced. "You lost it, right?" When Paul did not respond, Scott could not keep from pressing the issue. "Come on now, Dad. I've got you this time." He grinned. "Come clean. It's easy. Just confess. You lost it."

"Doesn't lost denote one doesn't know where something is?" his father question. "I knew it was here."

"I'll bet you looked for it until you realized you couldn't find it without mine. If you can't find something when you look for it, it's lost. Using mine to find it doesn't count in the game of losing and finding."

"Okay. I lost it," Paul confessed. He pondered upon a growing feeling of uneasiness, finally recognizing the source. The truth is I don't want to remain here any longer or be called on to answer any more of Scott's questions. He put his hand on his son's shoulder, "Let's go back to camp," and urged him to start moving up the hill. Remembering what June had said about littering, he altered his route from Scott's sufficiently to allow him to reach the tranquilizer dart. As he gazed down upon it, in his mind he again felt its sharp sting striking his back. Consciously pushing the painful memories away, he picked it up, stuffed it in his pocket and hurried to catch up with Scott.

They put up their shelter and spent the rest of the day around camp. Reveling in their freedom, they lounged away the afternoon in the warm sunshine talking about possible destinations when they had to get back on the road. As evening approached they returned to camp. "I'm really hungry," Paul announced.

"Me too," Scott echoed. "It must be the mountain air."

Paul handed Scott the gasoline stove. "It could still be the long walk," his father offered. "Why don't you get this started so we can get some hot water going."

Scott took the stove, but after many tries, the cranky unit proved as resistant to Scott as it had been when George Fox tried to coax it to life to warm himself.

"Use your sphere, Scott," Paul said impatiently. "Practice, or you'll never learn."

Having found his father, Scott forgot his earlier anxiety over feeling inadequate with this item of his heritage, and replied, evasively. "I don't think I should practice now. You may get another ring of blue lights? Remember, we're supposed to be hiding."

Again Paul conceded to using his sphere and easily prompted the reluctant stove into submission. "We're going to work more on this," he advised assuredly. "I think your lack of success is because you believe you can't do it. You have to think positively and only practice will help." Scott nodded.

They fixed some dehydrated goods, ate, cleaned the few dishes and left everything ready for morning. This day has been difficult for me the Starman thought. I know I have been making excuses to hide the truth about what happened up here. I can't continue to do this forever.

As Scott watched his father get ready for bed he could sense there was still something wrong. Dad has been very quiet and distant, he thought. At times he acts almost impatient with me. Now he wants to go directly to bed. That's not like him. Scott received nothing to quell his uneasiness when he tried to get him talking after they crawled into the sleeping bags. "You're right Dad, this is a nice place. I just wish Amy could be here with us."

"I'm sorry, Scott," Paul replied. "It was a long hike and I'm really tired. I think I would like to go to sleep." After a quick "Goodnight," Paul closed his eyes.

Scott returned a goodnight but now he knew something was wrong. "Dad, I think there's something you're not telling me."

Paul just rolled over and lay for a long time shivering. How can I tell Scott about those nights under the influence of Fox's drug; of Fox's accusations and my fear, that if caught, Scott might be what the government will attempt to use to get the answers they want? I have to stop thinking about it. I'll tell him everything in the morning. Now I must will myself into a deep human sleep. Moments later he was successful.

%%%

The next morning they got up early. Somewhat renewed from his stress by the sleep, Paul felt a little better. While Paul prepared a lunch for them to take with, Scott cleaned the dishes.

"Well, where are we going today?" Scott asked.

"We don't want to use all of Roy and June's things so we better go fishing," Paul replied. "Roy said catching is always better at the lower lake, so we'll go there today." They picked out two fishing vests and poles from the abandoned things and Paul again led the way across the meadow to catch the trail. He slowed his pace considerably as he again approached the open mountainside.

Scott followed as they walked the faint trail and did not notice his father's hesitation. When Paul veered off the trail suddenly and climbed the hill taking them briefly through some dense thickets, it was pretty hard for him not to notice something was wrong. Dad is acting funny again. How could he lose the trail like this when it's so obvious to me? He looked around. How strange, he thought as he looked down the hillside toward the abrupt drop off below. I think this is close to where he found his sphere yesterday.

Paul navigated back to the trail a little further on and the rest of the way went smoothly. He was finally able to relax when they reached the lake. They laughed and joked a lot as they stood along the shore fishing for their evening meal. With a full quota of fish soon secured in Roy's bag, Paul chose to remember only the good times spent at this lake and invited Scott to join him on the great circle route. Again laughing and joking they scrambled up, over and under obstacles. Almost around the lake they sat together on a large rock, breathing deeply and taking in the view. Suddenly, Scott sniffed his underarms. "I think it's time for a bath," he announced.

"The water's cold," Paul advised, his eyebrows rising and falling.

"What's the matter, Dad? I thought you liked the water."

"You go ahead," Paul laughed. "I dare you."

Scott, unable to ignore the challenge, undressed then climbed a large rock. Moments later he cannon-balled into deep water. "Geronimo!" he yelled. The return to the surface was as rapid as the descent and Scott came up sputtering. He swam only a brief time before returning, shivering, to shore. Protected from a slight breeze by a large sun warmed rock, he dried in the direct sunshine then got dressed.

Paul got the lunch out and they ate. Afterward Paul suggested they investigate the stream flowing out of the lake. A short downhill scramble and they were watching water in one of its fastest and most direct downward cycles, a series of magnificent water cascades.

Two hours passed and while searching for different views further down the valley, they found another prolific blueberry patch and renewed their energy.

By mid afternoon, they started back to camp. I know I can show Dad the easier way, Scott thought and he bullied himself into the lead. At least he'll know I have been practicing my navigational skills. I did watch carefully when we came over this way yesterday and I paid special attention to picking out landmarks this morning. Easily finding the fisherman's trail, Scott followed it back toward camp. "This way is easier, Dad," he announced proudly. Recognizing the place his father had lost the trail on the way over, he announced with pleasure, "I think you lost the trail right here this morning." Hearing no response, he turned and saw his father standing some distance behind.

Following, Paul recognized the small grove of trees he had walked through when he first heard the helicopter. Now he stood frozen in place with one foot on the rock and remembered following June. As the helicopter approached he wanted to run.

Scott saw his father staring toward him, but his face reflected a 'somewhere else', or 'deep inside' look. Scott walked back to stand quietly in front of him and facing a blank stare he waited for his father's return from wherever he had gone. He suddenly saw a very troubling expression appear. When his father began trembling, Scott felt a need to intrude. "Dad, what's the matter?"

Paul heard a voice and with a twitch of his head broke out of the trance with, "Oh!" Startled and disoriented until he recognized Scott looking up at him, he deceptively tried to put together a rational statement with a nonchalant, "nothing."

His father's answer did not ease Scott's growing feeling of uneasiness and he began reviewing earlier questions and observations. I don't really think Dad lost the trail. I think he left it on purpose. He has been acting mucho weird ever since we came back here. He starts shaking and when I ask what's wrong, he answers with a surprised, 'Oh,' long pause, 'nothing'. Dad is normally disturbingly straight, so straight he seems to make many people nervous. His almost total honesty has always been one of the more alien things I've had to get used to since we hit the road together. Now he's being evasive, or as he has so often accused me of 'being slick'. He frowned, looking at his father's still troubled expression ... but for some reason, I don't think he's doing this on purpose.

Scott remembered many inconsistencies he had shrugged off as they continued to enjoy their almost lost freedom. Why did Dad leave the camera here? It provides a way of earning a living, though I know he would take any kind of work to provide for us. But he left the exposed film he had taken of his trip. We can buy another camera, but the photographs are memories to share with Mom. Another thing. He left the air mattress Roy and June gave him for his birthday. He could have used it any time we have to camp out. He hasn't been acting ... normal and that bothers me.

Scott knew he must confront his father or bottle up his own growing fear. I can't stand this any longer. "Dad, what's wrong? And don't give me another 'Oh ... nothing'," he said with a determined frown. "I know something has been bothering you ever since we got here yesterday." Scott looked around the area more observantly. "Tell me, exactly how you lose your sphere out here."

Back to the reality of place, Paul said, "It must have fallen out of my pocket."

"You're story isn't very convincing," Scott returned quickly. "You said you knew where it was. You could have found it if you tried. I'm beginning to think you're trying to hide something from me."

"Why should I do that?" Paul returned guardedly.

"I don't know, and it bothers me," Scott retorted. "You've always told me we need to be honest with each other." Scott thought of another unanswered question. "How did you know Fox had found us?"

"You told me."

"I only told you I saw that other FSA guy over where we were going to meet."

"It would be reasonable to assume if one of Fox's men was there, Fox would be somewhere nearby," Paul offered.

I want answers, Scott thought, and somehow I think Dad is trying to hide something. I'll just keep asking questions and watch his reaction. "I don't think that's what you said, Dad. You said 'Fox found out we were at the farm'. How do you know that?"

Paul, confused by feelings and place, and now by his son's demanding questions and accusations, answered truthfully. "How else would he have found out I was in the mountains?"

"uYou/u were in the mountains?" Scott asked, catching the slip. "Fox's buddy said he was waiting in the parking lot for two fugitives, so he was under the impression uwe/u ... you and I, were in the mountains." When his father did not respond, Scott remembered another statement his father had made. Did he forget to tell me later, or was he avoiding my question? "You told Cal, that Roy, June and Kathy volunteered to meet the police. I think I was too relieved when I found you were okay to think about that statement. How did you know the police were waiting?"

"It's time to go back to camp," Paul replied. Reaching out he placed his hand on Scott's shoulder, trying to urge him onward.

"No, Dad. It's time to be honest," Scott replied. He set his jaw, stubbornly. "You're still not very good at being slick and I want some straight answers," he demanded. Scott grabbed his father's arm with determination and removing his father's hand from his shoulder defiantly pushed it aside. His hold pushed Paul's sleeve back and again exposed his wrist. As Scott got ready to let go, his gaze fell once again on the bruises. He moved his father's arm around to look more completely at his discovery.

Paul saw Scott's attention drawn on his wrist and tried to pull it away, but gave up when Scott simply held on tighter. With his free hand Scott pushed the sleeve back further and carefully examined the mark. Resisting feebly, moisture began to come unbidden, to Paul's eyes.

Scott gently took his father's other hand and finding identical marks, he came to the only logical conclusion he could think of. "These are handcuff marks aren't they?" His father's eyes closed and as he swallowed hard, Scott saw tears push from the corners of the closed eyelids. Hearing a low sobbing, the discolored eye and scratches he saw the day before took on a whole new meaning. "Fox was here, wasn't he?" he asked softly. Paul looked up again. Their eyes met and Scott gazed unblinking into them. "Something happened to you here. That's what my sphere was trying to tell me." Scott's lower lip quivered. "Dad, please tell me what happened."

I want to explain, Paul thought, looking apologetically at his son, but I don't exactly know how. I don't even know how I would explain to those on the ship, because I don't understand myself. I haven't enough experience with human emotions. But I must tell Scott something. "Do you remember the night we spent with Shannon and Beth?" he asked softly.

"Yes, we were on our way to Spirit Lake looking for Mom."

"That night you gave me a definition of 'trust' as 'doing something because someone asks you to, even if you think it's dumb.' Scott, I'm asking you to trust me. I will tell you ... but not now, and not like this. I need time to sort things out for myself, okay." He thought a moment longer. "Maybe more input will help me. Can you describe what you felt?"

The pain in his father's face begged for no more questions and Scott began describing his feelings. "I was in class and suddenly I..." He hesitated. "I don't know why, but I wanted my sphere. I found it active. Then I felt, confused and ... afraid. I ran away from class and ..." As he continued to describe his feelings, he could see his father was listening attentively. Suddenly he noticed his father becoming deeply involved and the blank distant look appeared again.

Scott's words, slowly at first then with increasing speed and intensity, revived the Starman's experience. Slipping into Paul Forrester's body memory, he again heard the helicopter then Roy's warning. I felt the sharp sting of the dart and as I ran I was reaching for my sphere. I had it out of my pocket and was holding it in my hand. Then I was falling, unable to stop. He blinked and swallowed hard. I saw Roy, June and Kathy looking down at me and I remember my panic. As sensations began to disappear from my body, I sought the comforting smoothness of my sphere and felt close to my own kind and home where such things did not happen. With the passage of only brief moments I found myself unable to remain home. I was back on the mountain. Memory began passing in slow motion. I was moving and the visual receptors would no longer respond. As sensation disappeared I saw June looking down at me. Standing on the mountain trail the Starman's sphere responded with its brightness that shone through the fabric of his jeans.

Scott saw his father's take it from his pocket and clutch it tightly. He then saw the distant look change to one of deep distress and heard strange gasping breathing. When he saw his father begin trembling he wanted to interrupt and break into whatever was disturbing him. Before he could speak he was again sitting in the classroom reaching into his pocket for his sphere. "Dad, what does this all mean?" he finally asked when he saw his sphere also glowing brightly. He looked at his father, who again seemed oblivious to his presence. Feelings began flooding his mind and conflicting anguish and information flowed to him in a constant stream. Finally unable to handle it any longer, he screamed, "Dad, uplease/u don't think about it anymore!" His scream quickly faded to uncontrolled sobbing.

Shocked back to the reality of this place in a different time by Scott's plea, Paul gasped. Seeing two glowing spheres and a look of terror on his son's face, he realized Scott had just experienced the moving energy of his own being reliving the day on the mountain. He gathered Scott in his arms and closing his eyes, clung to him tightly. Still shaking he muttered, "I'm sorry, Scott. I didn't mean to do that to you."

"Is that what you felt when I called out to you?" he asked between sobs.

"No," Paul replied, remorsefully, as he let go of his hold on Scott enough to look directly at him. "Through the spheres I felt your loss; your grief ... your loneliness. That's what called me to you. It was my panic and fear calling you to me."

"Panic? Fear?" Scott sobbed as he pulled himself close and held on tighter. "Don't leave me with this terrible feeling and no answers. Please tell me what happened to you here?"

I know Scott's physical link with me and his heritage is growing, Paul confirmed. When needed, the spheres provided a bridge between us. Now, I feel his fear directly. It is just as he must have felt, but not understood mine. A very fortunate lack of understanding for that is probably why it took so long for him to try to come to me. Though he must have felt my curiosity when I didn't understand what our friends were doing; I'm certain he could not visualize the feelings. I can see no reason to deny him the truth. Now I must explain or harm our relationship and his self-confidence. "Scott, let's sit here and I'll tell you how I lost my sphere."

They sat together on the trail looking out across the valley. "Fox came in a helicopter," his father said quietly. "At this very spot he shot me with too much of a drug called tranquilizer. I tumbled down the mountainside. I... The Starman paused for a long moment. I want to tell you everything, he thought, but it will be difficult. "I pulled out my sphere to divert the machine with sudden winds, but my body was failing. What you felt was my fear of impending death from the fall. Then I stopped tumbling, but I was no longer in control from within. My heart stopped beating. In my time of greatest need I could only wonder at human loyalty and abilities for Roy, June and Kathy provided something called CPR and I continued for almost an hour.

"You felt my wonder and my revelation when I understood it was my life to struggle for and until the sphere dropped from my hand, my elation that I would live. Scott, if Roy, June and Kathy had not known what to do, I would have died here." Paul continued his narration, easily avoiding that which he desired of his struggle. "When I heard them talking about giving up, I gathered what energy I had left and my heart started pumping again. That's when Fox came and took charge. The family protested my treatment and unable to respond, I was moved back to the campsite where you wanted us to stay. There Fox chained me to a tree like an animal. I got the cut on my head by fighting the drug as I started to awaken. Through all of this the family took care of me and..."

Father and son sat together and Paul continued relating the events of the days that followed. He told Scott of the indignities he suffered; the trauma of being drugged again and again and of Fox's inability to accept the truth; and his accusations. He described the snowfall that had them packing, riding out of the mountains and finally of the family's offer of freedom.

Scott looked sympathetically at his father, but the only words he could find to properly express his feelings rolled off his tongue with unquestionable passion. "Dad, I hate that man!"

"He didn't mean it, Scott," Paul offered in consolation. "It was an accident. He thought he knew about tranquilizer, but he didn't take time to read the directions when he got a new kind."

"There's surely no excuse for that, but also for what he has been doing to us." Scott looked down toward the precipice just below them. "I really think you used the wrong word again. It wasn't an accident. If you had kept falling you would have gone over the... Dad, he would have killed you."

"I still don't want to hear that kind of talk," Paul replied calmly. "He's afraid, and fear can make humans do things they wouldn't normally do. Someday maybe he'll realize the truth for himself."

"For that we have to live long enough. If not, it won't matter whether he believed you, or not," Scott said sharply.

"We will live," Paul offered with confidence.

Scott placed his hand on his father's shoulder. "Dad, let's get out of here. There are other places to hide and make memories. We don't have to stay here."

"I'm all right now," his father replied with a weak smile. "I think I needed to come here again to come to grips with being human ... and vulnerable." Paul's eyebrows rose into two graceful arcs. "I think you were right. We don't need to hide. We can move to the other camp if you wish."

"It's all right," Scott offered. "The place we have is fine."

As they sat quietly together, a Starman looked down the mountainside to where he had understood the reality of death. When completely satisfied all feelings were under control, a reunited Paul Forrester got up, pulled his son to his feet and hugged him again. "Thanks for the help. Let's go home."

With the atmosphere now more relaxed, after finishing the dishes of another evening meal, Scott turned to his father. "Dad, I wonder how Fox found us this time?"

"You would never guess," Paul said, shaking his head.

"You know?" Scott asked curiously.

"Yes. Fox wanted to tell me, so while we were waiting for the helicopter to pick us up, he asked me to ask him."

Scott gave his father a strange, unbelieving look. "Do I understand what you're saying? He asked you to ask him how he found you?"

"Yes." Paul's eyes opened wide as he looked at Scott and grinned.

Scott grinned. "You're kidding me?"

"I'm not kidding. It's the truth," Paul replied. "After spending a couple days with him, I believe I understand him a little better now. Catching and having me in his control seemed to fulfill something very important to him. I think he felt the need for me to recognize humans as superior. Perhaps giving me the warning to keep our hands off Planet Earth. I believe, in his own way, it made him feel he was doing his part to save the world. Actually, we talked quite a bit while he had me confined and I tried my best to convince him that my world is no threat. Sometimes I think he was listening. He showed evidence of beginning to overcome some of his fear, but not enough to let me go. When the family offered an opportunity to escape, I had to take it."

"But, how did he find us out on the Island?"

"Through the Billingsleys."

"Did Tony tell somebody after all?"

"Yes, Tony told what happened, but not the Tony you're thinking about. Do you remember the video Jim took at the lecture?

"Yeah."

"Little Tony saw us on it and told his parents I was the one who helped his grandfather. Paul smiled broadly. He didn't want to tell, but..." Paul recited the contents of Cynthia Tuttle's transcription.

"That's incredible," Scott finally offered. "Who would have ever thought the little boy would have led Fox to us."

"I know. He was a source I never thought about. Of course there would have been no way to keep the incident a secret expect the way his grandfather did. It would have worked fine if we hadn't run into Jim again. I guess you might call it unlucky."

"I guess," Scott confirmed. "If Fox hadn't found us we could have gone back to visit them sometime." He looked sadly at his father. "I guess that's out of the question now?"

"Like all the others, it's too risky for them and for us," Paul replied. "At least we'll have our pictures to remember them." Paul gave his son a sympathetic look, "Well, I guess that's just more water under our bridge isn't it?"

Scott heaved a sigh, "I think we have too much water running under our bridge."

"You're going to miss Amy, aren't you?"

"Yeah," Scott replied.

His father smiled. "We still have each other."

Trying to find something upbeat Scott grinned. "You know, a wise 'man' once told me that 'feeling sorry for yourself won't change anything'. We have to live one day at a time, right?"

Paul grinned broadly, appreciative of his son's support. "Right, and that new day starts tomorrow morning. There's some other places around here I still want to share with you."

"Great," Scott replied, happy at being back to something more positive. "You are right, this is a beautiful place and I'm happy we can share it."

"No one is happier than I am, Scott ... believe me."

They sat together talking a while longer. Soon, without the warmth of a campfire, the coming of darkness encouraged gathering wood for an evening fire. As the fire burned down father and son were settled in their sleeping bags and Paul turned off the flashlight. Ten minutes later he suddenly sat bolt upright.

His father's sudden movement awoke Scott and he rolled over toward him. Bright rays of light were emitting from a boot into which he knew his father had stuffed the contents of his pockets. He watched him grab the boot and unceremoniously turn it over, catching a vibrantly glowing sphere and some tumbling loose change in his hand. Those things still surprise and confuse me, Scott thought, especially, when like now they start doing strange things on their own. He looked at his father questioningly and in the light emitting from the sphere asked, "Dad, what's going on?" when in the light he saw a grimacing frown on his father's face.

Paul held the glowing orb for a few moments, before getting out of his sleeping bag. He stepped out from under the shelter of the trees before answering. "Just another thing I should have thought about when I realized I had unknowingly relayed my distress to you."

"Thought about what?" Scott asked.

"You weren't the only one out there receiving my message, Scott. Yours is probably doing the same. Why don't you get it?"

Scott removed his sphere from his boot, the top of which was underneath his jacket. As his father had said, it was also glowing brightly. "Well, what's the problem?"

"They've come back."

Scott pondered his father's words and making no sense of them, repeated them slowly. "They've come back? They've come...?" Simultaneously, his eyes and mouth opened wide. "You mean a ship?"

Paul searched for a word to describe the most personal relationship between his kind and finally settled on, "My friends."

Scott erupted out of his sleeping bag and rushed out to stand beside his father. "Where? Can we see it?"

Paul pointed high in the sky directly overhead. "There."

Scott shrugged, observing what seemed like nothing more than a typical sky full of stars. Then his father pointed out some specific guiding stars and Scott looked closer, seeing only a very faint blue fuzzy area. "Is that it?" he asked.

"Yes," Paul replied.

"You mean I'm seeing a real flying saucer?" he said with obvious excitement.

Paul frowned critically. "One of our exploration mother units," he corrected. "It's probably holding well outside earth's atmosphere to avoid being detected by your satellites."

"Right," Scott returned. Then suddenly his excitement waned and he became very uneasy. "Why are they here?" he asked slowly.

Paul felt his son's hand on his arm. Sensing Scott apprehension, he wanted to calm whatever was disturbing him. "Scott, they've just come to verify that I'm all right."

"Are they planning to land?" Scott questioned, his voice wavering.

"I don't believe so. I'll just tell them we're both okay so they can get back to work."

Scott heaved a sigh of relief. "Then they didn't come to take you home?"

Paul smiled when he understood Scott's nervousness. "Like you did, Scott, they sensed my distress and when I lost the sphere, they lost contact. Since they were still working this sector they changed course and were coming to check. Yesterday, when I retrieved the sphere they realized I was all right." Paul grinned sheepishly. "This afternoon they received my distress again, and decided since they were almost here anyway, they might as well verify my condition. I guess as June told us the time we all arrived in from work an hour late for dinner ... I should have called home. I might be a little bit 'in the doghouse'."

Scott laughed at his father's expression. "Another new experience, right?"

"Regretfully, yes," Paul replied. "They really have come a long way."

"Are they angry?"

"No," Paul returned. "Humans get angry. They can't. They are ... somewhat displeased at having wasted so much time."

Scott thought momentarily of his father's current embarrassment with his kind, over a very human failing. Then he remembered how very different his father really was and again became uneasy. "Dad, what if they hadn't found you? What if they had come the other day and found your sphere lying out there on the mountain?" His eyes got wide again. He took a deep breath and could not stop the rush of his next question. "What if they had found only mine?"

"I'm sure they located both," Paul confirmed with a grin, "but through yours, you would have received another strange message."

"What do you mean?" Scott returned apprehensively.

"Through the sphere they would have been probing for answers about me."

"But," Scott returned apprehensively, "I didn't know where you were."

Again sensing his son's uneasiness, Paul replied, "Scott, you needn't be afraid of contact with my kind. Remember they are partly your kind. They would have helped you by relaying directions to find my sphere so you could do some further checking."

"But, I still don't know how."

"Through the sphere they can make you understand because that ability to communicate is within you." Paul smiled. "Scott, no matter how human you feel, always remember you are a part of me."

Scott reflected on his father's words and his smile returned. "So they just decided to drop in to check up on you, right?"

"For the records, they decided to complete the mission they started," Paul said quietly. "Now they realize I'm all right, so they'll enter it as a successful contact."

The actual presence of his father's people further piqued Scott's curiosity about his 'other' world. Since Dad never seems to offer me much voluntarily, I guess I need to ask. This has to be the right opportunity. "Do they keep track of you no matter where you are?"

"Yes, they keep track of everybody," Paul replied without hesitation. "In my world it is very important to keep complete records. If they report my spirit no longer exists here, my essence, which is part of our record of existence, will be used to create a new life. We normally live a long healthy lifetime and replacing a lost life is a big deal; one surrounded with great ceremony. Our system is different than here where creating new life is a combining of two genetic lines. A human child represents a random genetic combination of both parents. At home, an individual lives on through duplication of their genetic line. "Do you understand?"

"Not exactly," Scott asked.

Paul grimaced thoughtfully, trying to devise a simpler explanation this time. "We utilize the same method I used to reproduce this body and your father's. I first saw your father on a moving picture in your mother's house. I scanned through a photo album of him as a child and as an adult. There I found a biological sample of genetic material. That I used to start the reproduction process. As it is at home, it never occurred to me to stop the process until I had a form identical in development to the mature specimen I selected in the photographs. I know at home we must have an option to stop at any point in development, but those in charge never give consideration to stopping the growth process before it is identical to our documented example. All record samples are mature. It reminds me that we have allowed ourselves to lose contact with youth."

"You mean there are no children?" Scott asked curiously.

"No," Paul confirmed sadly. "Perhaps at some time in history somebody in charge determined raising children too lengthy, or the result inconsistent. Maybe they felt it too much of a curtailment of freedom or simply not a valuable use of creative time. I can only speculate on the reasons for I do not know when or who made the decision to skip childhood. It might be lost in time. All I know is that has been our way for a very long time."

"But what difference would it make if later, they found out you were all right? You don't live there. In the entire universe, what problem could one more copy of your line, make?"

"Scott, ours is a replacement only society. To maintain it, accurate genetic records of each individual are very important. For two of my line to exist at the same time would be unfair to all the rest. Long ago we sought to establish a balance of our numbers to allow all that exists at home to continue. In this manner we also did away with the need for a colonizing nature. That's why all creation must be at home."

"It is different where you come from, isn't it?"

"Yes, and we'll talk about it shortly. Right now it's getting cold out here. I wish to say good-bye to my friends so they may return to their work." Paul's sphere glowed brightly again.

Scott looked up at the sky again and saw the fuzzy place become a brighter blue and a distinct blue ring appeared around it; briefly the ring flared brightly, and then the ship vanished among the stars. He saw his father frown, and then smile, before the sphere stopped its glow and they returned to the shelter.

When nestled down inside the sleeping bag again, Paul turned to Scott. "Now before we settle in for the night, I want to get back to your questions. Do you understand what I've been telling you?"

"I think so," Scott replied. He lay quietly, waiting for his father to resume explaining. Momentarily he had a troubling thought and in a voice showing evidence of a growing distress, asked, "But Dad ... don't they consider me to be from your line?"

The logic of his son's question amazed Paul. "When I returned home, some did conclude you being born here as a violation of order. I had to appear before the council to explain my actions. I told them your creation was my desire to thank your mother for the assistance she had given me. I explained while we traveled to the rendezvous, she told me she regretted not being physically able to have children with her husband."

"Then how did I...?"

Paul smiled broadly. "During our flight across the country, I used one of the energy spheres I brought from the ship, and her genetic information from a blood sample to repair damage done when she was shot by a policeman. The basic reconstruction apparently repaired her reproductive system as well. When you were created on our last night together, I offered you to Jenny. I told her you would be 'human'; a combination of her and your real father, but that you would also be my baby. When at first she seemed unsure, I gave her the choice to accept or refuse my gift. Of course you know what her answer was."

"So what happened at home?"

"Being a welcome gift and not of my pure genetic line, the council, reluctantly, adjudged your being, acceptable." Paul's voice evidenced a growing smile. "The most wondrous thing happened to me that morning when your mother confirmed she wanted you very much." His smile grew with the memory. "Through your father I experienced the second true, strong emotion I had ever felt; that being the joyous elation of mutual creation."

Scott smiled at the look on his father's face then decided to ask about another thing that always baffled him. "Then what part of me, is you?"

"There are many portions of human genetics having no specific or useful functions," Paul offered. "If you were dealing with computer language, you would refer to them as obsolete programs. Those portions might have been useful at one time in human evolution. To me they provided expansion slots that I filled within your father's body as I do in this one. You are very unique, Scott. Perhaps the first individual ever to be a combination of three genetic lines."

Scott smiled, and then looked pensively at his somewhat, non-father, father. I am beginning to realize how very little I really know about Dad. Many times during these past months with him, I've often wondered what his world must be like. From his actions, I could see him often confused over emotional responses then quickly learn to adapt. Now, I understand why. I wonder why I've always been so reluctant to ask him questions? This remains an open opportunity. "You normally feel no emotions at all?"

"In my world we feel, and we ... care for each other, but it is much different than it is here on Earth. As with friends, we... like, is the word that seems most appropriate. We like all, equally, as an individual and as a part of the whole. There is no competition between individuals and therefore prejudice is almost impossible. We have evolved into a very civilized society."

Scott tried to visualize himself in his father's place, coming from a world with emotional responses few or almost unknown. A world where everybody cared about everybody else and acted civilized. What a change from such a world to this one where everything seems controlled by emotions and only a few act civilized. His first experiences on earth were of violence and pursuit. How lucky he was to find Mom to help him. How lucky I am he came back and found me. The first thing I tried to do, in exchange for his caring, was to confuse and try to hurt him. Now he stays with me and has to live as a fugitive, constantly running from imprisonment and whatever else any number of George Foxes might have in mind.

Paul sensed his son was thinking deeply and waited politely until he returned before continuing. "There are many things different between my world and this one, yet in many ways if you examine each closely, they are not truly all that different. Like with Stella, she continues on even though she's no longer physically with us, because she lives in our memories. In my world, the reality of each individual's being goes on because they become a part of their friends, remembered for what they became."

"You mean by what they learned and the choices they made?" Scott asked.

"Precisely," Paul returned. "At home, each time we create a new individual, it is up to them what they do with their time of being. The final measure of their life is what others remember, whether it be good ... or bad. Some are remembered only by those with whom they have close personal contact, while others we remember for many lifetimes. Your earth leaders or humanitarians are good examples of the same thing, here. Some remain forever in your history because they contributed much. Those extreme or detrimental to your development are remembered for the opposite reasons. The majority of lives, though, remain memories only to those close to them. Stella, for example, had many friends and was well thought of by them. The thoughts of friends or family, or others close to you are really the reward of any existence, here or in my world."

"I guess we never think much about it," Scott offered. "Perhaps if we had to think about how we will be remembered, we might choose to do many things differently."

"Correct, think about the effect of your actions on others before you act," Paul confirmed. "Here, you call this ethics." Paul paused a long moment. "But for me there are special reasons why the records must be corrected because I am away from home and the ship. If, because of inaccurate records, they create another of my line, I would never be allowed to return home".

"Do you want to go home?" Scott asked pensively.

"Not now," Paul returned, with a smile. "Right now I want and like being here with you, but that doesn't mean sometime later I might not want to return home, even if only to visit friends. When we visited Seattle and decided to get flowers to take up to the cemetery, you went home to the flower shop of your memories. For me, home is still home." He paused momentarily. "Does that make any sense?"

"I think so. I just never thought about you ever wanting to leave."

"You're going to grow up and you won't want your old dad following you around wherever you go. I have learned it is not the custom here. I understand children leave parents and choose a mate. When you are ready to fly, if we have not found your mother, or if she has chosen another, I would be all alone."

"I would never leave you alone," Scott returned. "I need you and I don't want you to leave."

"That may change later. I feel someday the government will learn to accept and allow us our freedom. The day will also come when you fully understand who you are. Then you will no longer need me."

"Wouldn't you like to be a grandfather some day?" Scott laughed. "You'd get a new experience teaching and dealing with a combining of all those genetic lines from the beginning."

With the impish grin on his face reflected in his voice, Paul replied, "I never thought about that, still it doesn't change the fact, I might like to go home for a visit. Now the records remain correct so I may."

"Well I hope you never decide to leave."

"Thank you," Paul returned with a grin. "I hope they never have to come again. Remember this body will age and eventually return to the cosmos. You must also remember, at home I can continue and return to being myself."

Scott lay on his back a while, reflecting on his father's world. As a cool breeze wafted through the shelter, he pulled the sleeping bag snugly up under his chin before fielding another question. "Dad, what was the bright circle I saw just before your friends left?"

Before answering Paul grinned broadly when his son, seemingly relaxed, so easily used the word 'friends' to refer to those on the ship. "The ship has rings surrounding it somewhat resembling those of some of your own planets. Ours are the energy fields that propel it. My friends felt..." Paul paused again, searching for a word that did not translate easily, 'happy'? Yes, I think 'happy' is the closest translation to a word used here. They felt happy when I relayed all was well. All in the ship responded, simultaneously to happy and they energized the rings further."

"I sure wish I could have seen it up close."

"Maybe someday you will."

"Is that possible?" Scott asked hopefully.

"Everything is possible," Paul replied. "I feel certain they would not allow you to leave here, but someday, when you are ready, they might grant you a look. Right now, that is all I can tell you. The choice to do so must be theirs."

Scott recognized his father's subtle end to this direction of questions and he slipped quickly to another subject. "Did they have anything else to say?"

"We do communicate, Scott," Paul returned, laughing. "And yes, they conveyed that everybody on the ship is well and the re-charting calculations in this sector are almost complete. They told me they will be moving on soon."

"Anything else?"

"Not much you'd understand. I did ask if they would do some research into a few things at home that interested me."

"Like what?"

"Personal things," his father replied evasively. "Oh, yes, they did offer me their condolences," Paul replied impishly.

"Condolences! For what?"

With 'slick' still evident in his voice, Paul replied, "For having to remain here, of course."

"Hmm," Scott returned, "do they really dislike us that much?"

"No. They really have no ability to choose to like or dislike Earth at all, but after learning of my experience here, they do not want to stick around unless they have to." Paul looked through the darkness over toward where he knew his son was laying. "I told them there are many reasons I wish to remain now, even with this world's present state of development giving us problems." Paul thought only momentarily of the past few days, and then of the peace and very human closeness he was now enjoying with his son. He rolled onto his side facing Scott and chuckled. "Now the excitement is over and it is getting late. I think it's time you get some sleep. Tomorrow we're going to the top of this world."

Paul moved his arm from under the protection of the sleeping bag and placed it over his son. Almost without thinking, I perform this and many other very earthly customs now, he pondered. The other day I felt heightened awareness of how important it has become to me. The happiness of the moment remained reflected in his, "Goodnight, Scott," and Scott's, "Goodnight, Dad."

The Starman lay quietly, reflecting on this child of his creation. I planned to remain here briefly to help Jenny Hayden through some unknown crisis. Little did I know a child would hold me a willing prisoner on this primitive and hostile world? Still, even though not in space, I learn new and wondrous things every day. The other day on the mountain I experienced a very basic emotion when I was sure I would die and leave my son alone again. Then I felt gratitude when I knew friends cared enough to try to help me. They provided me with a further lesson, that it was my obligation to join their struggle for my life, to live for my son. These things are more wonderful than all the exploration and discoveries I have experienced with the ship.

Before Scott fell asleep, Paul felt his son move closer. There is a warm, very basic human emotion flowing through me again. It is one I cannot fully understand, but one I know gives me great pleasure. Perhaps the research I have requested will reveal it's not too late for them to truly, feel, and ... to love. He closed his eyes and joined his son in sleep.

%%%

Another new day dawned with clear skies and light morning frost. After breakfast, they prepared another take along lunch that Scott quickly volunteered to carry. Dividing the fishing gear and with jackets tied around their waist, they hiked to the upper lake. After exploring the area it was on to the top of the mountain. With the bad memories in perspective, Paul reveled in his freedom and like two children, they played together in the snow collecting memories and sharing the beauty and solitude of the area.

Examining Fox's map again, they found and hiked to two other small lakes a couple of miles further and fished until they had supper. At Scott's critical urging, Paul finally joined him in the cold water for a short swim. Afterwards, as they sat on a large rock warming in the sun, Scott's gaze focused on his father's discolored eye and the bruises still evident on his wrists. Scott took his father's hand. "Why don't you fix your face and wrists?" he asked.

"Maybe you should practice? I'll help you," Paul offered. This time Scott did not evade the lesson.

After a successful lesson in sphereological medicine under the watchful eye of a patient instructor, the bruises and scratches slowly disappeared. They ate their lunch in the warm sunshine then mutually agreed it was time to start back toward camp. The miles flowed under the constant stride of strong legs. They arrived back at the upper lake pleasantly tired, and looking forward to a casual afternoon. As they descended the mountain they heard a horse nicker.

Paul immediately recognized Monty's call and wasn't surprised as they walked into camp to find the Fosters and Dorans getting ready to unsaddle the horses. Amy saw them first and ran out to meet them, announcing their arrival.

A happy reunion followed, but Paul sensed something was different and it made him feel uneasy. June and Kathy, though free with their affections, seem unusually quiet and Roy is not making his usual jokes. Something has changed and it makes me nervous, he thought, as he help pull the saddle off Red's sweaty back. I know everybody must be curious about why the government is searching for us and this unexpected meeting is another opportunity for them to ask questions without the ominous specter of George Fox hovering over them. Also, Cal hasn't tried to offer his very logical advice about trying to face my problem.

Twenty minutes passed and still the conversation ran on with casual chatter as they put up the lean-to and got the horses out into the meadow. As they returned to the lean-to June began relating her frustration. "When we rode in, we could see someone had been into our things. I was really upset when I found both your camera and sleeping mattress missing, Paul. I just couldn't believe anybody up here would steal from another's camp. Here you said you would return our things, but how would I explain somebody had stolen yours? What a relief it was when you walked in."

"We didn't mean to worry you," he returned. "I planned to leave you a note telling you we had returned and taken them. I guess I really didn't expect you'd be back quite so soon."

"Well, we figured we better get back up here since we still had the horses and the gear," June offered. "Kathy and I went to the seminar to tell Cal we were back. He told us about meeting you. Everybody agreed since they still had the time off it was best to go back in now. We camped overnight at the truck and saddled up the next morning to go enjoy the rest of our vacation. Cal and Kathy are planning to hike out early so she doesn't have to miss too much school, but the girls are going to stay with us the rest of the week. I'm sure Amy is thrilled you decided to do your hiding here."

Tiring of busy talk, Paul heard Amy ask to be excused. She took Scott by the hand and he watched her leading him off. They walked across the meadow and soon could be seen sitting on a large rock. I don't believe Scott senses anything is out of the ordinary, Paul thought. His youthful concern is centered only on the moment. That presently consists of having more time with Amy. I think our plan to leave tomorrow afternoon will have to be earlier. "It has really been wonderful seeing everyone again," Paul offered. "I am pleased to see you are all right. I worried about running off and leaving you to deal with Fox."

"I think we handled Fox just fine," Roy replied.

"That makes me very happy. Now we can leave in the morning with a clear conscience."

"Why so soon?" June asked uncertainly.

"Because being with us can still be dangerous to you," he offered. "It is also time we continue our search for Jenny."

"Can't it wait a little longer?" June asked.

"It has 'waited' a long time already." Paul looked at June apologetically. "Now that you are aware of our problems with the government, for our safety as well as ours, we must leave." Out of the corner of his eye Paul noticed subtle eye and body messages pass between Roy and Kathy, and then Kathy whispered something to Cal. Momentarily, Cal gave Sandy a directional look indicating she was to come with him. As Cal and Sandy walked off toward a thick stand of trees adjacent to the meadow, Paul's feeling of uneasiness multiplied. It appears I am being isolated. I wonder why? He thought.

As Cal and Sandy disappeared, Roy turned to Paul. "Come on," he announced with a reserved grin. "If you really have to leave, let's go up the hill to the blueberry patch and get some berries for tomorrow morning's pancakes."

"That's a great idea," Paul replied. Picking blueberries, he thought happily, will take some time and is a chance to avoid the subject of the government's search. Maybe my suspicions are wrong. Maybe they are not trying to isolate me after all, but I think I had better find out for sure. "Let me call Scott and Amy. They can help."

"Since you're leaving in the morning, why not let them enjoy whatever time they have left, together?" Roy suggested firmly.

Paul frowned slightly. "Just a minute, I'll go find Sandy and Cal. They cannot have gotten too far."

"I asked them to collect more firewood," Kathy advised as she took Paul by the arm and urged him toward the trail up the hill. "Actually, there are some things we need to talk to you about in private."

I know with natural human curiosity, the questions would have to come. Paul thought. When the questions start I will have to offer my all encompassing, 'It's best you not know' speech.

June started walking. Roy motioned Paul into line behind Kathy and they hiked toward the trail to the upper lake. I almost feel trapped between them, Paul thought, as they started the climb up the trail toward the upper lake.

When completely out of sight of the camp, June selected a convenient log, stopped and sat on it. "This is far enough."

"Is your back bothering you again?" Paul asked.

"No," she replied. As Kathy joined her, they both looked up at Paul.

They had this all planned in advance, Paul confirmed, returning their looks suspiciously. Glancing around, his eyebrows rose then lowered into a deep frown. "We're not going to find any blueberries here," he advised.

With Paul's sensitivity we're making him uneasy, June thought when she saw the worried frown. "I'm sorry, Paul. We didn't want to worry you. We just needed to get you away from Cal, Scott and the girls for a little while." She looked at him sympathetically. "Like Kathy said, we really need to talk to you. But first, there's one thing I want to tell you about before I forget again. It has bothered me since that day out on the mountain." She looked at Paul with great concern, noticing for the first time all evidence of the cuts and scratches on his face, quite prominent just a couple of days ago, had disappeared. Curious, she thought. Dismissing it from her mind she continued with the more pressing question. "Have you been experiencing any problems with your eyes?"

Paul looked at her inquisitively. "Problems with my eyes?" he repeated curiously. Oh, he thought. I remember the expressions on their faces as they looked in at me on the mountain. I do not want to encourage further questions so I may have to revert to 'slick', in covering for my unexpected appearance. "No. I haven't been experiencing any problems." He listened with interest as June and Kathy, alternating statements, described seeing him. "I can't imagine what it might have been, but thank you for calling it to my attention."

"Well there is something wrong and it could be serious," June offered with genuine concern. "Things like that have ways of sneaking up on you. You really should have them checked by a professional."

"I will be sure to do that," Paul confirmed graciously.

"Good," June returned with relief. "Your sight is too valuable to take any chances."

Still standing, Roy had remained silent, allowing June and Kathy to pass on their concerns. "Now that the girls have fulfilled their mothering instincts, Paul, let's get down to the reason for this party separation. We want to talk to you about an agreement we had to make to keep some secrets. For that we needed to be away from the rest of the family."

Paul's eyebrows rose. "You agreed to keep secrets from your family?"

"We considered this agreement might be the only way to see our families again," June offered unhappily. "What we want to ask you is if there is any reason to worry further?"

"If you agreed to keep something a secret, you should," Paul returned with conviction. "You shouldn't be telling me either."

"We really never expected to be in a position to ask about it," Roy offered, "but since it very much concerns you, we figured it wouldn't hurt to ask while we have the chance." Roy took a deep breath. "With the concern you have shown over our safety, we want you to know Fox told us some incredible things. All we need is a couple of simple yes or no's."

"He said things about me?" Paul asked curiously.

"Oh, he said a lot of things about you," Roy returned. "Things we know have to be either the result of a concussion from his fall, or out of the mind of a crazy man. It took considerable fortitude on our part just to sit there and listen to him raving on to justify his job. Paul, we're afraid if he keeps repeating what he said to us, you can expect a lot of future trouble."

Paul's eyes opened wide, raising his eyebrows again. "What did he tell you?"

Roy's solemn expression of moments earlier turned to one of amusement. "It almost embarrasses me to say this, especially with what we know about you and saw of him, Paul, so don't laugh." Roy paused for a long moment trying to find the words then chuckling and scratching his head, he turned to June. "Hon, you're more into this stuff, you tell him."

June gathered her composure and gave her husband an accusing look for passing the buck. She tried to construct a simple statement that would leave no chance Paul might misunderstand Fox's danger to him. "He told us..." Her frown deepened and she started again. "He told us you were a..." The words unwillingly ran out again. She chuckled and grimaced simultaneously, and then started gathering herself for a third attempt.

Kathy came to her rescue. "He told us you're a..." Kathy stopped, and then it came in a rush, "you're something dangerous from outer space." She followed the statement with a controlled smirk, finally breaking into laughter. Roy and June quickly joined her.

Paul's face contorted with confusion. Fox knew they didn't know, so why did he tell them? He said his orders were to keep everything quiet, yet even after he told them he let them go. Paul did not laugh, but likewise he wasn't confessing. "He said that?"

"He didn't offer to tell us anything willingly, I can assure you," Roy confirmed in a voice broken by constant laughter. "After he got somewhat back to normal, believe me, the words started flying. I planned to file charges for the armed personal threats against us and hassle him further with the wilderness violations. Having to answer to the authorities about those charges I figured would keep him occupied long enough that he would have to accept you and Scott had escaped."

Kathy looked at Paul. "He vowed the government would back him all the way and we would be arrested. He made some other idiotic statements. Something about coming into a government lab for testing to prove you weren't our friend. He wouldn't listen to anything we said about why we were defending you. Soon he started into something about national security and his job. Right in the heat of that exchange, the man shifts, grinds his gears again, and refuses to say anything."

"That's when we made our official citizen's arrest," Roy advised. Now that the conversation had started and Paul wasn't laughing, he continued expounding on their experience. "Well, I'd heard about enough and we decided to get going down the trail. After a couple more miles, we thought he had finally made up his mind to cooperate and tell us the truth about why he's after you. That's when he came up with this goofy, alien from space, crap."

"He said you took over some guy's body and insinuated you were just waiting to take over the Earth," Kathy offered. "I couldn't believe what I was hearing."

June gathered her thoughts. "I decided I'd better check him over again. I still didn't see any symptoms of a concussion I've been taught to look for, so I finally concluded, government agent or not, he must be a lunatic. Now I was more than happy we had him disarmed and restrained, because he was actually threatening us. With plenty of time to kill, we decided to humor him."

"Suddenly he refuses to say anything worthwhile," Roy offered. "He just started babbling on about us being under some kind of spell."

June added, "The idea of a minor concussion from the fall did cross my mind again since I don't consider myself an expert on first aid." She grimaced. "Then he got all red and I finally considered he might suffer from high blood pressure. If that was the case, I think it was on its way out through the overhead. Worried we might have to deal with a stroke or a heart attack, I was mentally trying to remember the recommended treatment." She turned to Roy. "I think it was a good idea to let him ride. I think it relaxed him a little. It could have saved us from having to go for help."

"I realized letting him walk wasn't working anyway." Roy added "Monty was beginning to really move out and I thought Fox might fall. I also knew having everybody riding would get us to the trailhead faster." Roy looked back at Paul. "After a while on the trail, he stopped us again. With all the stop and go, it was just like driving in the city." His voice lowered and he frowned deeply. "This new round he acted even stranger. Out of the blue he does a tactical about face. It was just like he was another person." Roy shook his head slowly. "First he threatened us with prison and isolation until he managed to arrest you and Scott. I mean to tell you, his eyes were cold and calculating when he looked at me. He offered a wager of his job against our freedom. Man, oh man, what a life you two must lead with this guy on your case. He can be really intense, can't he?"

"Yes, he can." Paul agreed.

June, still seeing no sign of any humor in Paul's look, continued. "Paul, he just came out and offered us a deal to drop all charges against us in exchange for promising to forget the space creature stuff. He told us that you told him you didn't want anybody to know about your problems."

"I did," Paul confessed.

"You mean he did say something truthful?"

When Paul didn't answer, Kathy continued, "Just like he said, the law was on us with weapons in hand when we rode out"

"Though I didn't exactly trust him, the first thing he did was tell them to go home," Roy continued. "He's one weird dude. To the officers still remaining, he acted like he'd been on a weekend camping trip with a group of old buddies. He even thanked us for taking him into our camp."

Paul looked at each of these good friends and asked quietly. "Did you believe what he told you?"

June looked at Paul and grinned, and then shook her head. "You have to be kidding me? There's no way any human being can travel across the vastness of space. I also can't understand, with all the time he had to come up with a believable story about you, why he'd choose such a totally ridiculous one to try to feed us. My word ... monsters from space."

"Personally," Kathy offered, "I think he wanted to drop everything because he didn't want to show up to his forces secured in his own handcuffs. With all that law around, I think he didn't want us to tell anyone what he'd been saying. Chances are, he would have convinced some of them he was nuts."

Paul frowned, "But if you didn't believe him, why are you asking me?"

"Because we thought you're entitled to know what he's saying about you," Roy said. "We've had time to talk about the whole weird affair, Paul. None of it makes any sense. Personally I think the man has gone over the edge. He may need some professional help. We will honor our commitment, but I also don't trust government agencies that come out quoting national security as cover for what they're really doing. At times I just wanted to laugh in his face. Here we're supposed to be keeping this big national security secret and maybe it's him having the last laugh. After the fact, I guess I feel angry that he manipulated us so easily.

"I'm still not sure he wasn't bluffing," June added. "I think we have a good case for questioning his authority to arrest you on the warrant he showed us, particularly in the way he did it. There have been many legal decisions about evidence not being admissible if the arrest isn't proper."

"That might be true," Kathy offered, "but at the time and with Paul already gone, it just seemed reasonable to take his offer."

"Yes," Roy grimaced, "from the way he said 'Federal Security Agency' and looked me in the eye, I didn't really want to face him in court. I did consider he might be telling the truth about the power of his office. One doesn't have to be sane to work for the government."

"No matter what we decided," June returned, "we were still in a lose, lose situation. Except for getting some revenge for what he did to all of us, we wouldn't have gained anything. We would have had to seek a raft of expensive lawyers to fight his charges, probably would have had to post bail and could have been in the court system for months. That could have cost us the farm."

"I know you're right," Roy replied. He turned to look at Paul. "But by compromising with him, we left you at a status quo."

"I'm very sorry for having put you through all of this," Paul offered. "I really had no choice."

"We understand, Paul," Kathy added, "and you can't imagine how strange taking his offer made us feel. It included saying nothing to anybody, not even our own family. That's why when we realized you and Scott were here, we decided to talk to you again."

Roy pursed his lips then grimaced. "I guess what we really want to know, is if the trouble you're in, is serious enough for us to just put this all behind us as one of life's strange twists of fate. If not, I am thinking about contacting someone with adequate resources to have him and his agency investigated."

Pondering their situation, Paul looked at the three. Can I lie to them after what they did for me? I literally owe them my life, my freedom and another chance at a future for Scott. They're already honoring a commitment to Fox that keeps our existence a secret, but if I say 'no', being good citizens, I think they just might decide to start an investigation. If they start saying too much or begin asking embarrassing questions, Fox might be forced into doing something. I must consider their futures as well as ours. We will all be in jeopardy if I don't tell them something. I hope they will accept a very simple answer and not keep asking more questions. He looked at his friends, took a deep breath then let it out slowly. "The answer to your question is yes. My situation is serious enough for me to ask you to remain silent."

They expected Paul's answer to be one of his growing grins and a profound statement, but there was no grin to lead them to join in laughter. His face reflected, instead, a growing distress. "We certainly don't want to upset anything for you, Paul," June offered. "That's why we decided to ask you about it first. We won't say anything to anybody, but since we've agreed with Fox to remain silent, why don't you just tell us what this is all about? We thought you might have gotten yourself involved in some heavy international stuff. Is that it?"

Paul grimaced. I do not believe my simple acknowledgment that I do have a problem, is going to be sufficient to satisfy their very human curiosity. I feel I must tell them more. "No, I have done nothing harmful to anybody since coming here."

June frowned. "But if you haven't done anything, Paul, why are they after you?"

How much more can I tell them, he thought. At least this much, "Fox was telling you the truth when he told you a charge could be made against me for being an illegal immigrant, but that's all."

"That doesn't surprise us. We guessed you might be in the country illegally," June acknowledged. "But that's an immigration issue and Fox is Federal Security."

"There are a lot of other things they want to talk to me about, things that I cannot give them," Paul confessed.

"Are you a scientist or maybe a political refugee?" June guessed.

"As I said before, it's better you not know," Paul offered.

"Fox was right," Roy said bluntly, "He said you wouldn't trust us with the truth. He trusted us to keep our mouth shut ... why can't you?"

"They want me, and Scott, because of who I am," Paul offered further. "Your government seems unable to accept my presence here".

"Then who are you?" Roy asked impatiently.

"An illegal immigrant."

"You already told us that," Roy returned.

Paul heaved a sigh. If I don't tell them the truth, I will be violating the trust they have put in me. Now how can I do it? Oh well, here goes. He took a deep breath. "I am not from one of your foreign nations. I am from much, much farther away."

"Paul, I don't think you really understand? Fox asked us to agree not to tell anyone you're a space cadet," Kathy chuckled.

"Yes, Kathy, I do understand."

June's eyes got wide then narrowed and she began to smile. "Paul, do you understand what Fox was implying? He said you're an alien, alien." She glanced upward. "You know, an ET, from out there."

Paul nodded, obtaining direct eye contact. "I am."

"Come on Paul, get serious," she grinned.

"I am serious," he replied.

"Quit kidding around." She looked him directly in the eye and her grin broadened. "I know you can't hold a straight face for long," she returned flippantly. His unfettered gaze made her swallow hard. Eyes widening, her mouth opened slightly. "That isn't possible?"

"Yes, June, it is." Paul replied quietly studying her reaction.

She shook her head. "No. Come on, smile." When Paul nodded with an unwavering look, her smile faded. Examining his expression, her eyes got even wider. "You're not joking!"

"No, I'm not joking," he acknowledged without the flicker of an eyelash. Even though it might be difficult for you to accept, it is true."

"Then you're telling us what Fox told us is true?" Kathy asked.

"Yes, I am what you would refer to as, extra-terrestrial," he replied calmly.

"You're some kind of invading alien creature?" she returned nervously.

"No, Kathy. Though I am not of this world, I am not an invading creature." Noticing insecurity on her face, he cocked his head slightly to one side. "Does knowing this frighten you?"

June and Kathy arose from the log and moved aside a few steps. Concerned with their reaction, Paul sought to appease their fears, "Please, don't be afraid? I am no different now than I was when we were all working on the farm." At continuing stares and dropping mouths, his look changed to one of growing concern. "I have just assumed from the closeness we have shared, you would feel you know, me, well enough not to be afraid."

Looking at his renewed concern, June regained her composure. This is Paul Forrester, she thought. This is the same Paul Forrester we have known these past months. In the last few moments of talking to him he hasn't changed into a monster. Why should this knowledge make us think of him as less than the friend and helper he has proven to be? She returned to the log and sat again. "Paul, you're right. I do know you well enough not to be afraid. I'm just ... speechless."

Paul looked at her, and then at Kathy returning to sit beside her, and smiled. "It would greatly disappoint me to find any of you are afraid."

June, her mouth still open slightly, continued to stare. She shook her head and a broad grin appeared again. "Then others do exist out there?"

"There meaning," he glanced upward, "out there, or do you mean others of my kind here?"

"Either?"

"I am living proof to the first, and not that I am aware of to the second," Paul replied. He heaved a relaxing sigh as all their expressions turned to curiosity. The initial shock is over, or as Scott might say, the water is now flowing under another bridge.

"Now I understand why they're after you and why Fox used a tranquilizer." Kathy said. "He really didn't intend to hurt you?"

"I don't believe so. I am afraid there are too many questions your government wants to ask, first. Questions I cannot answer. I believe Mr. Fox, in his excitement at finding me, merely failed to use good judgment."

"Why didn't you run when you heard the helicopter?"

"Since I came here, learning has been a continuing experience for me, Kathy. I have had only limited contact with your flying machines. Though on my first encounter, they tried to kill me, when the machine approached this time, I had no real basis to believe it was even looking for me. When it approached, I assumed as you did, that it might be looking for the people we had been talking to earlier. I didn't know I could be disabled from a distance by 'tranquilizer'. I never considered it could be George Fox until I saw him. I will not make the same mistake again."

June looked Paul over curiously. "Sitting here looking at you, may I ask you something?"

"I'll answer if I can," Paul replied.

"This may sound strange." She frowned deeply, continuing to look him over carefully. "Does everyone evolve to look the same as we do?"

Paul smiled broadly. "No, evolution follows many paths." Thinking of a way to explain, he paused momentarily. "I am sorry for misleading you, but George Fox told me his orders were not to tell anybody about me, but now I think I should try to explain further. A little while ago you took the time to tell me about what you thought was a problem with my eyes. What you saw in my eyes, was me ... the real me."

"All I saw was blue light," June returned.

"Me," Paul restated, "though, 'to be' I do have more substance than just light." He paused briefly, allowing his statement time to sink in.

June leaned back slightly, perplexed by the thoughts racing through her mind. A few minutes ago I was looking at the Paul who has lived under our roof, eaten at our table and become an important part of our lives. Now I'm talking to something totally alien residing within that body. Paul Forrester must have been a living human being. "Then what Fox said is true," she said with uncontrollable disgust. "You took over this Paul Forrester's body?"

"No," Paul confirmed sincerely at hearing an unthinkable accusation. "June, that would not be morally correct. I told Mr. Fox the truth, but since he seems pre-occupied with the possibility I took over this person, let me tell you my side of the story. Then you can decide for yourself." He motioned for Roy to sit with June and Kathy then sat on the ground looking up at them. "I think it is important I start at the very beginning..." He reminded them of Voyager's invitation then told of being shot down when sent to follow-up on it. He told of finding Jenny; duplicating the body of her dead husband and making her provide the human assistance he needed to rendezvous with the returning ship. He told of Jenny's initial fear and amid various questions, explained much of their cross-country odyssey. He told of Jenny's acceptance, racing the clock and a deteriorating body, and reaching the recovery zone at the Arizona meteor crater to an armada of helicopters and gunfire. He then told of the ships approach forcing the threatening aircraft to land and silencing their weapons. "Once they retrieved me, we left."

For a moment Kathy looked suspiciously at Paul then shrugged her shoulders. "But what about Scott? How can he be your son if you're not ... human?"

"His father's body was very human, Kathy." He gestured, "As is this one. I merely provide the life energy that drives it. Though strange to me at first, it has become quite natural for me to exist within it. As with any other human being, I feel what it feels, physically and emotionally. The bond of human emotion I experienced with Scott's mother is part of what keeps us searching for her."

"Fox seemed surprised when we told him you were trying to find her. He said you forced her into having Scott."

"Again, that's not true, though he might very well believe it. We made Scott during out last night together."

"Made?" Kathy asked.

Paul grinned as he remembered his first experience with a strong human emotion. To him the answer to her question was simple. "Poorly chosen word. Forgive me. Scott was made in what you consider a normal manner."

Kathy's eyebrows rose. "After only three days, she just ... with you?"

"We must back up again for me to explain," Paul returned, his grin fading. "As I already told you, while I fled, just able to stay ahead of the authorities, a growing trust developed between us. Wet and cold on a moving train, we were driven close together for mutual warmth. I believe that closeness might have aroused in her a very strong attraction to her husband's physical form. Never opposed to learning something new, I merely allowed myself to respond to the flow of hormones within his body." Remembering again, Paul grinned sheepishly. "I must confess Jenny was a very good teacher." His eyebrows raised and lowered rapidly. "Well, one thing led to another and soon I realized we had created a new life. That new life was Scott."

Kathy blushed. "She must have been a very good teacher."

Paul grinned, appreciative of her acceptance. "When I told Jenny of our creation and she accepted him, I assumed all she had to do was to care for him as I had seen another mother caring for her baby. Though Jenny asked me to stay here with her, with the circumstances of my welcome, I felt it impossible. I was sure we would not be returning for a very long time and I had to tell her we would probably never meet again. Ignorant of the danger she and my son would face, I left with my ship."

"Then what brought you back?" Kathy asked.

"I left a technical device of my world with Jenny for the child's future development. Last year I received a distressing signal from here and obtained special permission to return. Expecting to find Jenny, I found instead, only a disturbed stranger. Finding a sample from blood spilled from Paul Forrester, I assumed this form to find out what was going on." Paul heaved a heavy sigh. "Now we must back up again, or my explanation will be incomplete. After I left, George Fox must have interrogated Jenny and when he discovered she was expecting a child, it required only crude mathematics for him to decide that Scott might be mine. I have learned from others, now, that Jenny was afraid the government would take him, so she arranged to have a couple in Seattle raise him, and then she disappeared from his life. The couple died last year in an accident. It was Scott's grief and loneliness that called me."

June could not take her eyes off Paul and she continued to study him as he answered Kathy's questions. Finally, unable to contain her thoughts any longer, she said spontaneously, "This is incredible."

Turning his attention to her, Paul said, "Not as incredible as it was to me, for, when I told Scott I was his father, he ran from me. Confused by his rejection, I didn't know what to do so I prepared to leave. Then a very close friend of Paul Forrester gave me a lecture about errant fathers and the time one must put into raising children. I questioned whether I could adapt to living here, but decided it was my responsibility to try."

"I'd say you've adapted very well," Kathy offered.

"At first it was hard, for Scott's continuing rejection made me lonely for the only world I had known." He smiled broadly. "Being together we have learned to depend on one another and I no longer get homesick." He shook his head slowly. "Being a father has been interesting, but as you have seen, it can be hazardous to my health."

"You don't have to let Fox do that to you, Paul," Kathy offered decisively. "We'll go to the newspapers; to television. Tell them your story and you'll get public opinion behind you. Fox won't be able to do anything."

"Though not imprisoned, Kathy, we would still have no peace. We would be oddities and many others would look for us. From what I read, I'm willing to wager some would be far worse than Fox and your government."

"Then you did tell him you didn't want anyone to know about you?"

"For now it is better we just continue to take our chances with Mr. Fox and hope someday I can convince him that I am here solely for Scott."

Roy frowned, "I'm still not certain I believe all of this."

Paul gazed into the eyes of his friend for a moment and then said quietly, "It is the truth."

"You said the light I saw in your eyes was you. Why can't I see you now?" Roy questioned.

"Because I have disbursed and energized the whole body again," Paul confessed. "Even I do not fully understand what happened out on the mountain, but when this human body died I apparently panicked within it. I cannot leave this form without assistance from my own kind, but trying to survive locked within it, I sought a way out and appeared," Paul motioned toward his eyes, "here, where I could still see light ...and freedom. Under the influence of the drug I could feel nothing of this body and wasn't aware of my response until I saw your reaction as you looked in at me. Trying to avoid the internal darkness, I sought the light each time you looked in. I believe I would have continued to appear until I got the pump started again and knew I would live."

"Pump?" June questioned. Momentarily she realized what he was saying. "You mean you started your heart?" she asked, somewhat disappointed.

Always observant, Paul noticed her reaction. "I'll try to explain as best I can." He paused momentarily gathering his thoughts. "From inside, I was well aware this body could no longer function on its own. Since I could not escape, in the way of my world I merely resigned myself to the end of being. I didn't understand the artificial life support you were providing until I heard you say a tranquilizer should wear off. It was then I realized that here on Earth I had to fight for life and joined your efforts by frequently trying to start the pump."

"Then you could hear us?" Kathy asked.

"Yes, though I could feel nothing, I could hear what you said as you worked to save me. A number of times I tried, without success, to re-start the pump. Afraid of using up my energy reserves too soon, I hoped you might provide me with an indication of the proper time. Then I heard June say the time had come to discontinue your efforts. I knew time was running out and gathered every remaining energy resource I possessed for what was to be a final attempt. That was the time it worked."

June looked at Paul. "We didn't know," she said remorsefully. "We could have let you die."

"But you didn't," Paul replied. "In reality, your efforts to save this body provided it with livability for an entire hour. Without you, I would have died in darkness."

I remember the elation and the feeling of the moment when I first saw Paul breathing, Kathy thought. She frowned deeply. "Can you gather energy from other sources?"

"I don't know!" Paul replied, his eyes wide and bewildered. "Why do you ask?"

"Because just about the time I first saw you breathing, I felt a distinct chill that left me shivering." Kathy raised one eyebrow. "Could that have been you ...gathering?"

"You too?" June asked. "I thought it was the emotional letdown of having to accept defeat." Together, June and Kathy glanced at Roy and received a reciprocating nod.

"All three of you at once?" Then Paul remembered. I was holding at least a slightly excited energy translator. My sphere apparently became a two-way energy thief. "I must assume it was you who contributed the necessary energy. What can I say, but 'I'm sorry' and 'thank you'."

"I'm certain I'm speaking for all of us," Roy returned with a frown, "you're more than welcome. Any time you need any more, just feel free to drain off some."

Looking at Roy, Paul's guilt deepened. He lowered his eyes. "I'm sorry, but I didn't realize..."

Roy broke into a wide ice-breaking grin. "It's okay. It was just for a moment and we're all living proof there was plenty, Paul ...or what should I call you?"

Delighted to find himself the brunt of another joke, Paul grinned. "After almost a year, I am Paul."

Roy's smile passed, replaced by one of chagrin. "Why didn't you just tell us the truth? We would have figured a way to get you away from Fox sooner."

"Sooner?" Paul questioned. "You were planning to help me escape all along?"

"Yes," Roy replied with growing pride. "We decided on that right after dinner the first night." Roy described their unsuccessful attempt at intercepting Fox in the fog and the despondency of believing they had come too late. Then he grinned broadly. "When we found you back at camp we were going to suggest getting out of the mountains as soon as possible, but Fox beat us to it with his emergency weather forecast. The arrival of the snow storm made everything a lot easier."

The smile left Paul's face. "Then Scott was right. He said he didn't think snow would have made you leave."

"Paul," Roy laughed, "I guess I just assumed you would realize we could easily have waited out the storm. I've done it so many times hunting, it seems like second nature. Going into the mountains this time of year, occasional snow storms, like frost, just happen, but these early cold snaps seldom stay for more than a few days."

"But you left all your things?" Paul questioned.

"We planned to leave most everything here anyway. It would have been senseless to carry everything out then turn around and have to bring it all back in again for this week. We planned to go down with all the horses and enough stuff to use for one night on the trail. The only change in plans was stashing everything here in the pack boxes. We took just about what we originally planned except the two June was using on the packsaddle and the one you had used that Fox needed to keep from freezing."

Paul frowned. "You say the snow made everything simpler?"

"Sure, we knew Fox couldn't have been sleeping much for at least forty-eight hours. Then he dropped his guard because he felt himself part of what appeared to be an emergency. He dropped it even more figuring we volunteered to give up our things so he could ride. We knew after riding Red's constant trot, devouring a substantial lunch, and then a smoother, slower ride, he wouldn't be able to hold out much longer. I saw him start nodding not twenty minutes after lunch. The plan was for me to pull him off and subdue him during one of those nods while June and Kathy gained control of the weapon. It would have worked just as planned except I was one nod too late. Actually I thought he might give out sooner, but he's too driven. Of course after what he told us about you, I can somewhat understand why."

"Yes, he is driven," Paul returned, "but ignorant of the truth."

Roy frowned. "I was really hoping he'd resist at least some, because I really wanted to fatten his lip again."

"I'm glad you didn't do that," Paul replied as he put his fingers up to his forehead. "Impact openings in the skin, hurt a lot."

Roy grinned, and then his grin faded to chagrin. "But Paul, after these past months, didn't you feel you could trust us enough to tell us what this was all about?"

"Fox threatened he would arrest you if I said anything."

"You would have allowed yourself to be taken to keep us from the same?" Kathy questioned.

"You have all been good to us and I think of you as friends. I kept hoping I would get a chance to escape on my own, but it was beginning to look bad. I will admit I was hoping you might try to help Scott find a safe place."

"If we couldn't keep Fox from taking you, we planned to get Scott away. Then we were going to go to the media and ask for help."

"No matter. You should have said something!" Roy retorted.

Paul looked up and gave them a grateful smile. "I didn't want to get you involved."

"We were already involved. Do you think we could just stand there and watch him treating you like an animal?"

"He did offer me some minor concession of comfort in exchange for telling you I agreed to go with him. But I am not stupid. He has promised to turn me over to your military and the end would have been no different. I could not compromise any possibility of escaping for temporary comfort, for ultimately, I cannot allow myself to remain in the control of any government."

"What do you mean 'cannot allow'?" Roy asked.

When Paul did not answer, they all looked intently at him and could see the answer in his calm expression and slightly raised chin. "Why do they feel they must imprison you?" Kathy asked with compassion.

"Fox said for research and interrogation."

Visualizing a dissection she had done in a college zoology class, she frowned deeply. "Paul, that's gross. What do they feel gives them that right?"

"From talking with Fox, I believe a part of his obsession with confining me is the possibility that my presence here is some preliminary to an invasion of your world. In mine there is no thought to express such a taking of others. Still I feel there must be others who believe as he does."

"And if enough believe it," Kathy returned with a sigh, "it gives them the right to do anything."

"He has also suggested my freedom to be a national security risk, whatever that means."

Kathy looked at Paul with compassion, "They must realize for you to get here you must have the ability to control tremendous power resources."

Paul's frown deepened. "Of course we control vast power resources, but I do not understand why it should be a problem."

"They might want control of you because of fear you might sell your knowledge to the highest bidder."

Paul's eyes narrowed. "Don't they realize to provide any primitive society with access to technology beyond their emotional capability to control, has to be strictly forbidden?"

"Some probably do, but people in power always think of potential threats to their power. When they think of losing power long enough, the threat becomes real," Kathy returned.

June looked compassionately at Paul. "Your Mr. Fox is also concerned with you using your knowledge. 'Absolute power corrupting absolutely', that's why he told us we should fear you."

"What does that mean?" Paul asked.

Looking down at his puzzled expression, she thought. This isn't a creature or a monster I'm looking at, only a kind and caring friend once again puzzling over a piece of incomprehensible information he has received. "Paul," she offered, "here, more often than not, intelligence combined with power is too easily corrupted."

Paul frowned deeply. "Does Fox truly believe I will act improperly? Where I come from that is never the case." He sighed deeply. "Under no circumstance do we victimize another. Socially, we adhere to two simple basic rules, 'Think before you do; and do nothing you would not desire in return'." They are almost identical to those I see in many of 'your' great books of wisdom."

"I am familiar with those sources," Kathy replied sympathetically. "They are beautiful statements that can encompass the handling of all human relationships, but we still have to achieve an adequate level of social awareness."

"I know, but I see many who have, and many willing to try changing preconceived ideas. Your species is beginning to strive for the perfection your nature demands, thus providing your intelligence a chance to succeed. Individuals must choose to rise above animal instincts and try to find conscience, for choice and conscience go together. When united they form the basis of ethical behavior."

"We're working on it," Kathy offered with a smile, "but lasting change comes about slowly and not by laws alone."

"If you keep working on it, it will come."

"Sometimes I begin to doubt it."

"With conscious choice each human being can choose to eliminate the restrictive pecking order and rise above the animals and so contribute to the common good." Now feeling close to giving restricted advice, Paul started to get up, "I believe it is time for me to go back."

June, could see he was getting uneasy about their questions. Not wanting him to leave, she grabbed his arm and asked, in an effort to try to keep any conversation going, "Has Fox caught you before?"

With a question he felt free to answer, Paul settled again. "Yes, but only briefly."

"How did you manage to escape?"

"With the help of friends, like you. In the past I have also used harmless illusions to confuse him. Now I know he is aware of them and fear he will ignore real danger, thinking it to be an illusion. I would feel badly if he or anyone got injured because of me."

June, seeing his concern, frowned. "Why are you worrying about him?"

Paul paused momentarily, and then smiled. "A matter of choice and conscience," he replied. His smile broadened until he chuckled. "Actually, he constantly surprises me. While he bargained with me to go with him, he offered to remain with me during any government procedures. I could only interpret his words and the manner in which he offered them, as showing some concern for my future." His smile faded. "Until you helped, I thought I might have to rely on his sincerity."

"That's strange, he offered us the same thing," she advised, thoughtfully. "He also said he would make sure you and Scott are treated with proper respect. I remember his offer very well, because I wondered if he just meant better than we saw him treating you. That might not be much of a favor." She shrugged her shoulders. "I hope you never have to rely on his commitment to anyone for that kind of help."

"I hope not either," Paul confirmed. With one raised eyebrow, he mulled over George Fox enhancing his offer. I wonder what he would consider 'proper' respect.

"Over the past couple of days I have debated breaking our agreement," Roy said. "Now I know he wasn't kidding about what could happen to us if we had not agreed. When he told us about you, the threat of having us arrested and placed in isolation, was true?"

"Yes, I believe so. I think you and your family would have disappeared into the government system with no explanation to anyone on the outside." Paul saw an involuntary shiver pass through Roy's body as he looked at his wife and daughter. "That is why I'm so surprised he told you. I do not doubt he has that authority, but I do question whether he would use it. He told me that anyone who has helped us has committed a crime. He also said he hadn't arrested anyone. I guess he figures arresting too many people a bother, or perhaps a further threat to this nation's security. That is why I wanted you to be sure to tell him I hadn't told you anything. I asked Cal to tell you I arranged to call him. If Fox had taken you, I would have found some way to help."

"Cal did tell us, and I thank you for your concern," Roy returned. "Now that we understand, we wouldn't do anything to put any of us in jeopardy."

Paul looked at these three friends. "To me it is gratifying that you know the truth and can accept it. I still remain hopeful things will change with Fox. I believe he will learn to overcome his fear, for his invading monsters live within him and make him avoid the truth."

"Why even try changing him?" June questioned sincerely. "I think that man is as stubborn as a Missouri mule."

"Simple," Paul replied. "Remaining free and undiscovered is a necessity for us to have any kind of normal life. Mr. Fox is the one who chases us, so it is him I must convince of his error because his agency seems to be in charge of all information about my presence here. Though they wish to keep me a government secret for the wrong reasons, it continues to allow me my privacy."

"What good is privacy if he keeps hounding you?"

"I gain time. Learning to understand him will assist me in understanding others like him. Someday I may need him, or someone like him to speak 'for' me and Scott. To do so, I must help him overcome his belief that I, or my world, is a threat. If I can't convince him, how can I ever hope to convince anyone in an even higher position, or those of your military?"

"After talking to him, he seems so determined to confine you, I see little chance of success," June advised.

"During this time we've been together, I could see him coming to a truce with himself. If I could have stayed, in freedom, I would have continued talking to him more candidly. Now I must rely on him continuing to think about the things we did discuss. Perhaps the next time our paths cross, he will have conquered at least some of his fears sufficiently for us to come to a mutual understanding, or as Scott might say: we could 'get to know where the other is coming from'. Perhaps with time and non-threatening actions on my part, I can convince him it would be wrong to confine us. There is even a possibility, if he is willing to give it a try, we could become friends. All I want here is an opportunity for Scott and me, and Jenny if we can find her, to be a family and live in peace."

"We can hide you," June offered. "There are so many things we want to ask."

"While I appreciate your offer, we cannot stay," Paul announced with certainty.

"Please?" June implored. "There is so much you could teach us."

"Now that you know, we must not even stay until morning," Paul reiterated. "As with your government's questions, I cannot continue to answer yours. This world has been determined insufficiently mature for information exchange. I read of too many people yet unable to accept those of your own kind who appear different."

"Once people get to know you, Paul, they would soon learn acceptance," Kathy advised.

"Only if I appeared as the rest of you. That is not a truth," Paul said. "A much larger number of your people must overcome prejudice and intolerance in themselves, Kathy, before they will be ready to accept those totally different. It is not for me to judge or try to change you. For Scott, the only thing I know I must try to change here, is the attitude of one George Fox."

With a look reflecting the knowledge of the cosmos, Paul continued. "More important for you are many of the things you discussed with Charlie Fisher. There are decisions you must make about goals for your entire species. Decisions about right and wrong. For us to let you take shortcuts in the determination of correct things to do for each other and this world is considered interfering in your search for an identity. Such interference remains strictly forbidden." Paul smiled. "Still, while Scott and I travel, I am learning to feel and understand what it is to be a Planet Earth Person. For myself and my world, I am trying to understand 'where you are coming from and where you are going.'."

"But why should you want to know how we feel?" Kathy asked.

"It could be vitally important with regard to future contact. Also knowing how you feel allows me to blend in and become one of you, for I may decide to remain here beyond Scott's maturing years. I too want to find Jenny Hayden and if she is available, and willing, I want to be with her."

Kathy looked at Paul and grinned. "Somehow I can't envision too much of a problem with this Jenny."

"So far the problem has been finding her," Paul returned, "but I remain confident we will."

Kathy grinned broadly. "Is it all right with you if I tell Cal about you? It would mean so much to him."

"It's all right with me, Kathy, but that permission is not mine to grant," Paul replied. "Whether you choose to honor your commitment to George Fox, is entirely up to you."

Kathy recognized she faced a simple truth of deciding between right and wrong. She heaved a sigh and nodded slowly.

As soul-searching moments passed, Roy looked down at Paul with increasing humility. "I feel so foolish about some of the things I said and did to see if I could get you to ask me questions. I laughed because you weren't familiar with certain aspects of our language."

"Roy, you shouldn't feel foolish at all," Paul replied. "You weren't laughing. It is a game I recognize you played, not only with me, but with others who visit. I answered your questions, because I wished to. I learned many things in our games to help me further understand my growing humanity. One learns some things by reading and listening to others, but when unfamiliar with words, concepts or sayings, questions must be asked. I continue to learn wherever I go and from everybody I meet and using your many sayings will help me blend in better. In addition, Scott and I have learned many things while at your farm and I will continue to study the natural cycles of life on Planet Earth."

Now somewhat awed as by a celestial presence, June looked at Paul with humility. "Being who you are, you surely must think of humans as backward and simple minded."

"I will admit, the first time I came here I was highly critical of your ways. For example, I felt confused when I saw a deer shot by a hunter. Though I asked Jenny Hayden about it, my question was not designed to learn, for I did not consider that I was not home. All I felt was it bothered me that such beauty of form had been made waste. Acting without all the facts, I became a self-appointed God and restored the animal. From you I have learned that though life may be taken, it was not necessarily wasted. It only changed form to serve other purposes as life here dictates it must."

Paul paused momentarily. "You see, I had to learn that I cannot compare this world to mine. Now I know such a comparison of systems is not just, for I cannot compare a growing child to a mature adult. Your world is young and has a long way to evolve to achieve maturity. Living here, I understand foolishness to be a part of youth as are the associated dangers. As I continue to learn more about what it is to be ... human, I understand you can often act foolishly, but never think of yourself as simple minded. You are much more complex than I ever imagined. With intimate and prolonged contact I have found you a truly amazing, inquisitive and creative species. Now, each time I think critically, I remember one of June's sayings."

"What was that?" she asked, grinning appreciatively.

Returning her smile Paul replied, "It was, 'Do not be critical of your neighbor until you have walked a mile in his footsteps'."

Paul looked from one friend to the other. "In addition to what I learn from those we encounter in our search, I have learned from being here with my son, that adolescence is the time for growing up; the time of making choices; and accepting responsibility for your actions. It is a very difficult time of choosing between what's right and what you personally desire. An adolescent's entire future depends upon their choices. It's really the same with any intelligent species. When we found your probe we understood you to be The United Nations of Planet Earth.

"Now I read of wars and the cruelty one inflicts upon another. You continue to act like adolescents, seeking only the satisfaction of self. That leads to conflict. It is sad, for warring among you takes too much of your creative potential. With mankind, as with that growing child, you must collectively begin to put away toys and intolerance and look toward your future, for the energy sources you have developed as weapons are capable of destroying this world."

"But between the more powerful nations we have agreed not to use many of them," June offered defensively. "Having them has even provided us with a restless kind of peace for we realized long ago that what we were relying on to protect us, was useless for anything except total and senseless destruction."

"That reasoning is a sign of pending maturity, but a mixed blessing," Paul offered. "The issues of destroying each other must give way to the use of wise and collective reasoning to resolve problems. This world is truly beautiful and as we discussed long ago, the alternate to human conflicts destroying it, is also 'human'. Your numbers are causing a step-by-step destruction of that upon which all must depend. As a thinking species you must learn to care about everything and develop ways of controlling your numbers with reason and equality. This must be a higher challenge to your creative intelligence."

"Thank you for reminding us of what we should be able to see ourselves, Paul," June returned.

Starman sighed deeply. "I really find it rather sad for you can no longer remain an adolescent. You must begin the search for maturity." Paul thought momentarily of his investigative challenge to the ship. "Becoming close to you in your youth, I have found your world has a great deal to offer mine as a reminder of what we have lost."

June frowned. "What do you mean?"

Paul grinned, "You have things my world seems to have forgotten by virtue of its very 'civilized' nature. I have discovered a great wonder in laughter." Paul's smile spread from ear to ear and his eyes danced. "Especially the ability to laugh at the same time you learn from your mistakes. But one of the most fascinating and still the hardest to understand is one you possess in abundance and merely take for granted. It is the emotional attraction and response you call, love."

"Love?" Kathy asked quizzically.

Paul smiled at another memory. "Though at the time I had no idea what Jenny Hayden was trying to tell me, I remember so vividly what she said of her love for her husband who had died. By her definition, 'Love is to care more for another than you do yourself'. She said 'It is when someone is a part of you'." His smile disappeared. "Jenny cried at just the thought of her loss, but I did not understand. Since I returned to be with my son, I have discovered it to be so much more. It is caring and trusting without question."

Paul's smile appeared again. "It is doing something someone asks you to, even if you think it's dumb. It is something that grows over a long period of time and strips away defensive barriers leaving you vulnerable to betrayal ...to hurt ... to pain. Yet the feeling you get from a total sharing of yourself with another, is more powerful and wonderful than all the discoveries I have been a part of. It is the basis for being ...for living ...for life, and one my world often seems to have forgotten. As I observed your world facing the dangers of a growing child, I can see mine facing the stagnation of aging. We are allowing ourselves to mature too far and have lost many of the joys of ...being."

"You could teach us about those things," Kathy urged. "You could make sure we don't make the same mistakes."

"I cannot," Paul returned. "Be it an individual or a civilization, when presented with facts each must make its 'choices' for all or lose character. I have already offered to my world for their consideration, those things I have found beautiful here. Now it is up to them to choose what is, or isn't, important. I am certain if feelings, emotions and the hazards of youth are deemed desirable, they can still choose to change. For your world, you must think of and become part of solutions you need right now," he offered. "Have respect for your species, for it does have things rarely found in one so young. Intelligence occurs only rarely; sometimes shows promise, but lacking compassion for its own, ends in self-destruction. You are now at the end of your youth and must accept the challenges of growing up or join the records as another failure."

"You inform us we have to start growing up, and then you run off somewhere to play 'keep-away' with the government," Roy said, rather perturbed. "Are you ready to accept whatever we do?"

"My plan is to stay here with my son and as a part of his world so I 'must' accept whatever you do. If wise, you will make justice your guide and learn from everything around you. If you choose well for all, someday you will be ready to reach for the stars. Then the door will open and my world, perhaps by then younger because of you, will come to take your hands." He paused, looking with humility at three special friends. "Now I know Scott and I must leave right away, not only for your and our safety, but because you can no longer treat us as one of you."

"We will," June said decisively.

"You cannot," Paul returned with assurance. "Even when you did not believe what Fox told you was true, I noticed reservation in your actions. Now you know I am different. I do not want to be treated like an oddity from another world. I want to be one of you, for that is how I learn and you can no longer treat me so."

"You won't even give us a chance?" Roy returned sharply as Paul got up.

"It will not work," Paul replied. "You'll try to make certain you don't 'appear foolish' when we talk and you'll be reluctant to offer advice. You will carefully analyze anything I say for some deeper meaning." Paul began to grin. "I'm not some omnipotent being. I consider myself an explorer and while I can perform any function on my ship, normally I navigate, using and creating maps," he pulled Fox's map from his pocket and displayed it, "like this one. The only difference is I make and used multi- dimensional maps of the stars in a constantly changing universe. Here on this world I am the stranger and if I am to fit in, I must learn what it is to be a man ...and a father."

"Please stay?" Kathy begged. "At least for the rest of the week."

Paul's response was related slowly and with deep conviction. "No. I know you must have many questions to ask, but I cannot keep answering them. I am returning to our camp to collect our things. Then I'll get Scott and we will leave." He smiled. "I want to thank you all for your hospitality and the chance to help you on the farm." His eyes began to sparkle as he looked at them. "I'll always remember you, for you have taught me important things about being part of a family; about laughter; how to celebrate the Fourth of July; the fun of picnics and parades; about birthdays and parties and presents. You gave me a birth day to celebrate like everybody else. Paul's face became very somber, before continuing. "But most of all, you cared for another more than yourself and without that expression of love given without question, I would not be here. The truth is, the 'love for another' you gave in these mountains, saved two lives and possibly my son's future as well. I can think of no proper way to express how I feel."

I understand the truth in his words, June thought. They have to leave. But the truth is not going to make parting any easier. "On the contrary, it is we who should be thanking you for trusting us with such a secret." She smiled warmly. "Without answering more questions, just knowing others exist and that you are out there waiting for us to grow up boggles the imagination."

Paul watched her stand. I think I've kept her sitting too long and she's stiff again, he thought. It didn't show when she got up before because she was momentarily afraid. I have watched her suffer with pain since she re-injured her back earlier in the summer. Scott asked me to help her, but I knew it would raise too many questions. Would helping her really be any different than what I did for Jenny or Tony Billingsley? By scanning for her pain and using comparative reference with this body I should be able to find the problem. With the sphere's energy I should have no problem repairing the damage. His eyebrows rose as he saw her shuffling stiffly back toward the trail. Unconsciously he shrugged his shoulders and heaved a sigh. What difference will it make if I demonstrate the power the sphere gives me? I cannot... No, I will not believe it will frighten them. He followed. "June, wait," he called softly. When she stopped, he took hold of her arm and turned her back toward him. "Can I try something for you?"

"What?" she asked, inquisitively.

"Would you trust me to find out what is wrong with your back?"

She smiled. "I can tell you what's wrong with my back, Paul. It's degeneration of a spinal disk. The doctors said it will eventually require surgery, but they felt it too risky unless the pain becomes intolerable. I just have to put up with it, hoping every passing day that medical science will soon come along with something better and safer."

Paul took her hand in his and looked her in the eye. "You thanked me for trusting you with a secret, but do you feel you can really trust ... me?"

"Are you testing me?" she asked, her eyebrows rising.

"Maybe," he replied with a challenging smile.

Needing nothing more, she smiled in return. "Sure I trust you, but there's nothing you can do?"

Paul took out his sphere, displaying it to her. "With this ... perhaps much."

June paused, looking at the object lying in his hand. On the trail Paul insinuated he wanted to stay to try to talk to Fox in freedom. Roy said he searched frantically for a round ball then suddenly decided he had to leave. Feeling enlightened, she looked again at the sphere. "That's what you were looking for. That's why you're here." She frowned deeply. "You came all the way back here for that?"

"To me it's very important."

Another reality dawned and she smiled knowingly. "Scott's technical device?"

"No," he replied. "My technical device. It provides me with a link to my world, but it can do much, much more."

"But it doesn't look the way it did when I saw it the other day."

"If you trust me, it will in a moment."

"Paul, I'd trust you with my life, anywhere and anytime," she offered freely. "If you want to try something, go ahead."

He turned his head and saw Roy looking at him, his face full of questions. "And what about you, Roy, can you trust me?"

"Of course he can," June offered without hesitation.

Paul waited a long moment and receiving a restrained nod from Roy, directed. "Now, Roy ...Kathy, please do not approach us. What you see will be a part of me and my world, but you need not be afraid." He turned back to June. "I must first determine if I can help, but I will do nothing if it might harm you."

June watched Paul position himself beside her. For a moment she felt his hand at her waist then it slipped between her clothing and moved directly onto her lower back. Other than an uncontrollable reaction to a cold hand on warm skin, she stood still as a statue, but still slightly apprehensive, she could not keep from closing her eyes.

"June, I can feel you're tense," Paul chastised. "Remember, you said you trusted me. Relax."

Looking over her shoulder she Paul's smile. Why should I be tense? she asked herself. He's wearing the same friendly smile that has always attracted me to this man. She blushed self-consciously as his fingers, following some unrecognizable pattern, moved slowly around her back. His eyes closed and seeing a look of complete concentration on his face, she felt a feeling of warmth flowing through her.

Paul's eyes opened and a shimmering blue light emitted from the object in his hand. It expanded then suddenly surrounded her in a glorious blue haze. Eyes wide in anticipation, she looked through the haze and could see Roy and Kathy staring in alarm. Now unable to do anything but relax, she marveled at the increasing warmth within the light. It immediately reminded her of his warm hand and the 'thank you' felt on the mountain. She felt a sadness when, in what seemed like moments, the light disappeared.

"There should be no discomfort any longer," Paul announced with complete confidence.

"Are you okay, Hon?" Roy asked, rushing toward her and glancing nervously between them.

"Fine," she replied with a grin. "It was wonderful. I'd recommend it to anyone." Bending over she tested for the normal aching. "It doesn't hurt anymore. Thank you, Paul." She reached up to gently touch Paul's forehead. "You healed all your injuries, didn't you?"

"No." At June's puzzled look Paul smiled and said, "Scott did." He saw her nod and realized she understood Scott was special too.

As Kathy came to June's side, Roy turned to Paul, asking brokenly. "What was that?"

Raising his hand, Paul pointed to his eyes. "'That was me', for direction," he confidently held out the sphere again, "and energy relayed through this."

"But ..."

"Roy, that's all I can say," Paul offered, politely cutting off the questions he knew would come if he tried explaining. He turned away from his friends. "Now I must go."

Roy grabbed his arm. "Please, can I ask you one more question before you leave?"

Very reluctantly, Paul slowly turned around to again face this benefactor and proven friend. "I can't explain..."

"No," Roy returned. "My question is not about what I just saw you do. That, in itself, was a miracle and I can accept your reluctance to answer about the source of such an ability. I have to ask about something Fox said that is bothering me."

"I have already shown you more of myself than I would George Fox because you seem able to accept who I am," Paul offered. "Now I must also ask that you keep what I have shown you, permanently, to yourself." He heaved a sigh. "Still, if something about 'me' bothers you, I do want you to ask. I want you to feel comfortable with the choices you have already made on my behalf and with any you may have to make in the future." He looked firmly at them. "You must understand, there are things I cannot explain to you."

"I understand," Roy confirmed. He looked at Paul with grave concern. "George Fox insinuated that since we had been around you for so long, we would do anything to help you. Paul, on the surface it appears we have. He insisted you have some kind of control of us." Roy looked at Paul meekly, unable to put his question into words.

"Roy, as with many of George Fox's ideas, that one also is not true," Paul stated with unquestionable certainty. "To manipulate or control another's thoughts to benefit yourself is not correct behavior at any time. Even if it was the only way I had of escaping from him, I would not do so."

"But he said he's seen others in your control and I have always felt ...well, a strange compulsion to look at you eye to eye."

Paul looked bewildered. "What are you trying to say?"

Roy stumbled over the words. "Do you have some..." he grimaced. "I might as well just ask you straight out, rather than beating around the bush. Do you have us in your ...control?"

Paul looked at him with concern. How can I best answer such a question? he thought. I think my best answer is the common human method I have observed and often used before. "Have you felt you have done anything not of your free will these past months?"

"Never," he answered confidently.

"Then you have answered your question. As I just said it would not be correct. In my world, ethical behavior is beyond reproach. It is an idea needing encouragement in people."

"Paul," June asked. "Your healing light brought another question to mind I'd like to ask before you go? I think it relates to what Roy just asked."

Feeling himself being drawn closer and closer to forbidden territory, Paul offered anxiously, "I will answer if I can."

"The day out on the mountain, when I took your hand to check your pulse, I... What I want to ask is if you can..." She paused, seeing a growing look of concern on his face. "I'm sorry, I don't want to hurt you."

"The truth cannot hurt or be changed by a question," he offered. "Please say what you're thinking."

"When I took your hand, I..." Determined, the words finally came in a rush. "I 'felt' you thanking me." Grimacing, but now that the first words had been said, she continued. "Can you transmit thoughts?"

Paul's eyes lit up and he smiled. "Then you understood I was trying to convey my appreciation for whatever you were doing for me?"

"I 'know' I 'felt' something," she returned.

Paul smiled at the complexity of their observations. "This might take a little while and I think we should sit again. He led them back to the log and again sat on the ground before them. Suddenly he saw June's mouth drop and her eyes opened wide while drawing in a large breath of air. "June, what's the matter?" he asked in alarm.

"Oh, Paul!" she replied in anguish. "Now I think I understand why Fox thought the message I delivered for you was a riddle!" She closed her eyes tightly and a pained expression remained.

"I didn't mean it to be a riddle," Paul returned hesitantly.

"Paul, I hope you're going to tell me you have never asked Fox to look into your eyes?"

"Yes, I have," he replied apprehensively. "Why do you ask?

"I can forget so many things. Oh, how I wish I had forgotten to deliver that message."

"June, I don't understand what you're saying," Paul replied with concern.

"Paul, now that I understand your problem with Fox. I'm really sorry to have to tell you this. I just know he misunderstood what you were trying to say."

"June, what are you talking about?" Kathy asked.

"Kathy, do you remember the look on Fox's face when I told him about Paul's eyes? Remember, he got so excited he even thanked me. That's when he started to ramble on about the mind control and taking us over. He even went so far as to forgive us for helping Paul." She winced. "Kathy, he put what we described together with Paul's message. He thinks Paul was setting him up." She looked back at Paul. "If I hadn't delivered your message, you might have been much closer to achieving what you want of him. I make one attempt at trying to cooperate with the man and now it's my fault he believes as he does. Paul, I'm so sorry." Tears started flowing down her face and she took in a couple deep breaths.

Paul sighed. "I am sorry to hear that is what he now believes, but June, it isn't your fault. It was my message and you had no way of knowing. Two truths just happened to come together at an inappropriate time. I believe it is called bad luck."

"June, I don't think everything is lost," Kathy returned confidently. "If you'll think back, Fox said he would remain with Paul, after that."

"That's true," she sniffled hopefully. "But even so, keep away from him, Paul. Now he's even thinking of you as personally threatening. Please don't try to set up any meeting with him unless you can be sure of your safety."

"June, under these circumstances, I think I must fully answer your question for the answer relates to what you felt and to what Fox now believes. This will be difficult, because I must not say too much." He saw them looking at him expectantly and took a deep breath. "I am assuming, from what you have seen of me, you might guess my kind uses no verbal language. Most advanced civilizations do not. We communicate by projecting or blending thoughts. Language, both verbal and of the body, can be misunderstood, but to those experienced in merging communication, thought patterns remain universal.

"Try to understand, the developing human mind is already a remarkable achievement." Paul pointed to his temple. "It already has the ability to handle vast quantities of information faster than language can express." He looked at June with appreciation. "I know it has the capability to comprehend projected thoughts if the circumstances are right. On the vague chance you might possess that ability, I might have been projecting to you."

"I know I felt a 'thank you'," she returned. "Is it possible I might have such a gift?"

"I can check for you, if you wish?"

She nodded then allowed him to take her hands. She saw his eyes close and the look of concentration returned.

Momentarily, Paul looked back. "I have projected a simple message. Did you understand?"

"No," she replied, shaking her head in disappointment.

He held up the sphere up between his thumb and forefinger. "Then I believe the reason you understood my projection was because you were holding my hand and the sphere provided a pathway between us." He looked into her eyes. "Now I would like to answer your question. I must confess, even while I occupy this form, I possess abilities associated with my world. I can sense and translate a highly emotional state of mind in people merely by direct contact. This is probably due to certain chemical changes and electrical impulses that occur when the human body is under stress.

"In general, though, human thought patterns are too cluttered for me to understand without my 'technical device'. Even then, it takes time to sort them out. In my world all enjoy the ability to blend with the thoughts of others, to do so without permission is considered improper and impolite. If abused, it can be considered an invasion of self and is dealt with severely."

"Would you ever do so?" June asked, hesitantly.

"There is a growing part of me that ... thinks 'human', and as a survival technique I am learning the graceful art of deception."

"Are you deceiving us now?" Roy asked, looking directly at him.

Paul turned to Roy and his eyebrows rose in disbelief at what the words implied. "No," he advised with increasing distress. "To lie to you now would gain nothing and lose much, for you would not trust me. I will say, it is difficult for me to lie and I do try my best to be truthful as long as it doesn't put us in jeopardy. Still I do not want you to think, with the power I possess, I am without transgressions. All were selective and I felt without any other choice."

June looked at Paul coyly. "Can you tell us what you believe a transgression?"

"Yes, for again it will also help me to answer your question," Paul returned without hesitation. "As I said before, I can transmit thoughts readily, but there is only one person I have yet confirmed capable of receiving them."

"Scott?" June asked confidently.

"No." Paul smiled "I have already determined, even with my genetic influence being a part of my son, Scott's teenage mind is a total clutter. My communion was with a man who had suffered a stroke. The first time I met him, I took his hand and sensed a deep distress, almost dread within him. I sympathized with his situation and must have projected my feelings to him. Through contact with his incapacitated body I was able to comprehend fragments of what I believed a very garbled thought projection. Later, when I found him alone, I used my sphere to read his thoughts. I'm afraid in the reading and sorting, I translated more than he projected. Even though I never repeated, other than his concern over an engineering flaw, I clearly violated ethical behavior norms by having invaded his deeper thoughts."

Kathy frowned. "Can't you consider he gave his permission when he first tried contacting you?"

"He might have only been dwelling on his concern and not consciously trying to contact me. The second time, I initiated the contact."

"What option did you have ... ignore him? If that was a transgression, how do you ever get permission?"

"I feel the last time we merged he did give his permission and might have vindicated my earlier transgression. When an emergency arose I know he fully understood I wanted to help, for his projection came through loud and clear. I put his thoughts into words and he saved his daughter, an experimental aircraft and their business by preventing what could have been a fatal crash."

"Under the circumstances," Roy offered, "I think he was very lucky you happened along. At the time I think he needed your breach of ethics very badly."

Happy again with their acceptance, Paul smiled. "Thank you, but that was not the only time. On another occasion I utilized the sphere to read another's thoughts to ease my own conscience. This I did, clearly without permission. I found out that during Paul Forrester's life, he fathered a son. Eric is about Scott's age and became rebellious when he accidentally discovered the man he believed was his father, was not. Assuming I was, he felt an attraction to the image of a father, not the reality."

Paul looked at Roy, and then at Kathy. "Being a father, just like being a son or a daughter, grows with time, trust and understanding. Eric believed the image more important than his mother and the step-father who had always been there for him. Knowing our circumstances, you can understand when he asked to join us, I had to tell him I couldn't allow it." Paul confirmed their nods. "I continue to find teenagers interesting and unpredictable, for hurt by rejection from someone he didn't know, he was going to run away from all he did. He wasn't really running from his mother or his stepfather. He was running from my rejection."

Paul heaved a sigh. "To try to repair the damage, I had to find him. To do so I needed ideas of where to look. I found his true father of time, grieving over his loss and used my sphere I 'suggested' he remember places his son might go when troubled. Scott and I checked out a couple of possibilities, and finally found him. "I told him he could go with us after he explained to his parents why he wanted to leave them. His mother easily accepted that he would be in the care of his biological father, but his father of time became angry. I could feel his honest affection for his only child.

"I know there is a time a parent must let go so a child can learn to fly, but this was not the way. Still it was the growing adolescent boy who had to choose, not his parents. With my device reinforcing my feelings, I invaded the man's thoughts again; quieted his anger; encouraged him to allow his son to think over his available options; and projected the thought telling him to wait for the right time to go to Eric. With reinforcement from a caring father, the boy chose to remain with his family. Ignoring the ethics of my world, I invaded that man's privacy, not once, but twice."

"Can't you consider it was for the best?" Kathy asked.

"For the boy, yes. I believe he was making a mistake that would affect his entire future. For me, it was a violation, and I can never be sure if I chose correctly."

"As a mother I could only pray for the availability of such unethical help."

"Thank you, again," Paul replied as he looked up at them. "I have confided in you that I do have physical and mental abilities beyond those of normal humans and again must ask you to keep that in confidence. I want you to know I am totally in control of who I am, and would never do what Fox implies." He cocked his head slightly to one side and looked at June. "Now, have I answered your questions?"

"Yes," she confirmed sadly. "I want to thank you for sharing so much, Paul. I feel it a great privilege to know you." Her lower lip quivered. "Is there nothing we can do or say to change your mind about staying here with us?"

Calmly and with conviction, Paul replied, "No. We must go."

They watched sadly as he got up. This time no one tried to stop him. He walked briskly back down the trail while they followed slowly.

Paul reached the meadow and proceeded to camp, gathered their things and stuffed them into the duffle. He rolled the two sleeping bags, took down and folded the tarp and readied all the borrowed gear for return to the lean-to. When finished he walked out across the meadow to where Scott was talking and Amy giggling. Paul looked at Amy, apologetically, "I'm sorry, Amy." He turned to his son, "Scott, we have to leave."

Scott looked at his father, defiantly. "You said tomorrow?"

"They know," Paul stated simply, reinforcing the words with his eyes. He motioned back toward where Kathy, Roy and June now stood looking at them from the lean-to.

Scott looked at his father in disbelief. "You told them? Why?"

"Fox told them."

"I don't believe this," Scott replied ungraciously. "That man has somehow managed to ruin my last day here?"

"They know what, Scott?" Amy asked innocently.

Scott saw the 'let's go, now', look on his father's face and knew better than to argue further. He turned to Amy and took both of her hands in his. "Amy, I'm sorry, but we have to leave."

Amy got up, pulled Scott close and gave him a kiss. She knew this would be their last good-bye. Scott and his father were in trouble with the government and for the second time she accepted his departure without question.

Paul, not wishing to impose on the personal nature of what was to be Scott's final good-bye, said, "I'll wait for you back at camp."

"Thanks Dad," he replied gratefully.

Paul returned to camp and several minutes later Scott walked over with Amy. "Is everything ready?" he asked. Paul nodded.

When Cal noticed the camp being packed, he and Sandy came over. Paul confirmed their eminent departure and Cal graciously offered to help move everything to the lean-to. Everybody gathered for what three family members knew would be the last time. They exchanged good-byes without reservation.

"You'd better take the sleeping bags," June offered while fighting back tears. "It will be dark in a couple of hours and you'll have to camp somewhere in the mountains tonight." She handed Paul some pieces of plastic sheeting. "You can use these for ground cloths." Next she pushed a plastic bag toward Scott. "It's just some groceries."

"Thank you," Paul accepted graciously. "We will send the sleeping bags back."

"Whatever," June mumbled, finally unable to keep her tears from spilling over."

Paul rolled his air mattress into one sleeping bag and the groceries into the duffel then tied the plastic around the second bag with a piece of twine. One of the first, and most difficult things I have learned about being 'human', he thought, is saying good-bye. He forced a smile and looking at all, but three in particular, said quietly, "Please don't walk any further with us. I want to remember you here, in this beautiful place ... and smiling." He waited until Amy, June and Kathy were able to control persistent tears. I can see they are not afraid. Why can't George Fox be as open minded? As forced smiles appeared, he returned one of his. With one last, long look at the Fosters and the Dorans, he handed Scott the camera and extra sleeping bag and shouldered the duffle. "Good-bye," he offered simply and turning, they walked away. Never looking back, they walked through the trees, crossed the creek and started up the mountain.

As Paul and Scott disappeared into the trees, three family members were thinking how unfair it was. Roy took hold of June's hand, and then Kathy's and gave each a reassuring squeeze. Kathy saw Amy's tears overflowing about the same time Sandy saw them and each took a hand. In a moment a circle of family, seeming short by two, remained watching well after they had disappeared.

%%%

What an impact these two have had on our lives, Kathy thought as she tried to settle back into a normal camping routine. I'll be starting back to school when Cal and I get home. I'll be entering another exciting part in my life. Though I will never regret these past years of being a full time mother, I will be returning to the career I chose as a teenager. Paul was confident in my ability and with that thought in mind, I know I can make it. Would I have remained at home, wasting whatever potential I have to help others if Cal hadn't dragged home two extras for the weekend because he felt he owed them more for their lecture?

I can still hear Cal confess during haying, that a few thought provoking words from Paul had given him a greater confidence in his ability to teach and in his own personal worth. From attending another one of their lectures he outlined the basis for what he jokingly started referring to as 'The Forrester Method' and he has been successfully using it on his students. After only a few weeks he found a new attitude toward school and learning in many of them. Now he is determined to discover those special interests that lie hidden within those remaining so he may bring them back into the learning mainstream.

Kathy squeezed Cal's hand. When I approached you about going back to school, we agreed we would continue his method. Her thought appeared as an outward smile. At least through the Calvin Dorans, this 'visitor' has the potential to help many other young people. When the family finally separated, Kathy's smile faded to a perplexed frown as she saw Cal return to stacking wood under the edge of the lean-to. I do so want to tell him the truth about 'his teacher', but I did enter into an agreement with George Fox and I know it is proper to honor it.

Her smile bloomed again as she saw Amy and Sandy bringing in armloads of wood. Amy joined her father in stacking while Sandy continued passing it to them. Scott, like his father, is colorblind. This summer with Scott, I could see my Amy experiencing a wonderful and rewarding boy-girl relationship. Amy has bloomed into a beautiful young woman with poise and confidence in her ability to deal with life and her future. How, I wonder, would she react to knowing about Scott's hidden side? Could she remain as objective of his differences as he has been of hers? She nodded her head then closed her eyes and smiled. I believe Amy has always been colorblind of prejudice.

On the way back into the mountains, Sandy, my classic boy-shy pre-teen, though giggling and joking, told me if Scott hadn't been Amy's boyfriend, she would have tried to give her sister some competition. Kathy frowned. Sandy will be twelve next month. Her bloom into adolescence will be upon us within the year. Oh, how her ideas about boys will change. She grinned again. I think Sandy might have already passed a basic initiation of growing up. First, I do have to respect her choice of quality for her first crush, and secondly, she has also shown the maturity to honor her sister. She chuckled inwardly. Maybe we haven't done too badly as parents.

%%%

Roy's wood gathering had taken him far enough up the mountain that he could look toward the pass out of the valley. "I don't see them so they must be over the top by now," he said to the surrounding trees. "We realized Paul was different and even guessed him to be foreign." He grinned as he picked up the wood he had gathered and started back toward camp. "The truth about just how foreign would never have occurred to any of us."

Walking back toward camp, he mumbled, "The first week they were with us I observed a mechanical aptitude and an unusual ability to learn in both of them. They took to operating farm machinery as if they had been doing it all their lives. Paul even figured out the Truck Driver's knot in one quick demonstration. It took me an entire day with a professional demonstrating repeatedly. At the time I remember feeling like a dummy just as Cal must have felt when I tried to teach him. Paul didn't seem to have any problem teaching Cal. I also know Scott has many of his father's abilities, but I think he is still limited by hormones and the impatience of youth."

He dumped the wood on the ground for Cal and Amy to stack, and then picked up the water kettle from beside the fire and walked to the stream to fill it. "I'm still not sure I believe this whole thing," he mumbled to himself. "It has to be some kind of weird dream. I'm going to wake up soon." Filling the kettle from the rushing stream, he returned to camp. After setting the kettle down beside the fire pit, he stooped over and walked into the lean-to. His eyes fixed on the spot where Paul had been confined. Cognizant of the fact he was no longer alone, he didn't express his feelings out loud. It wasn't a dream. We shouldn't have let them go so easily. He paused. That wouldn't have been right. We had to let them go. If we tried to force them to stay we would have been no better than George Fox.

A sly grin appeared again then bloomed to cover Roy's face. What a shock we received today when we found we've had an explorer and navigator of the stars living with us. No wonder he...? Remembering the light in Paul's eyes, he paused. Is 'he' the right word? ... Yes, to us, Paul has always been a 'man' ... and a friend. A friend who gave a demonstration and explained, with technical accuracy, the geometry and physical forces of a game of pool. He shrugged his shoulders and chuckled to himself. No wonder he looked at us so strangely when we mentioned there would be no haying on the Fourth of July. He chuckled again. Paul had no idea of what we were talking about. Still he easily adapted and I think he enjoyed it. Unbelievable as it seems to me, he said he learned much from us. I am truly humble.

Roy broke his train of thought and looked up again when he heard Sandy raising her voice. He heard her twice repeat a question to her mother with no response. I don't think Kathy is even aware of Sandy being here. I know I wasn't. I think we're so locked up in our thoughts that Cal and Sandy must be feeling like outsiders. I think we need a whole family diversion. After all this is a family outing. "Hey guys," he shouted. "Let's hike up to the blueberry patch. With some proper arm twisting I'll bet we can convince Kathy to whip up a skillet of her famous 'Camper's Blueberry Dumplings' for dessert tonight."

Surprised, Kathy looked at her father critically. For Pete's sake, Dad, she thought, why do you want to walk all the way up there? Then Sandy, speaking with an air of impatience, drew her attention and she looked at her daughter. All I've been thinking about is Paul and Scott and have been neglecting my family. She moved off, urging everybody on. In an hour they returned and while Cal and June put the balance of the meal together, she whipped up the dessert. The dumplings did not last long.

After dinner camping busy talk continued for a short while until Cal said goodnight. Roy quickly decided to join him, issuing the word they would be up early to hike to the lower lake. Everyone agreed to turn in. It had been a long day for both riders and hikers.

%%%

Hours into the night, June was still lying in her sleeping bag unable to sleep. I can't keep myself from thinking about our unusual houseguests. She chuckled to herself. I remember what Scott said to me about his father never having had a birthday party. A slip of speech, or a fib? He knew, literally, his father had never been born. Inside, was he laughing?

We often talked about Paul's strange lack of knowledge of simple things as being raised in isolation from the world at large. Actually his lack of knowledge is only of the meaning of unfamiliar words, localisms and customs, for undeniably he has an amazing command of our language. We passed, without judgment, Scott's tendency to try covering for his deficiencies. In truth, I think his efforts are an attempt to protect his father.

She rolled over, but thought pictures continued unceasingly. Paul said he cannot read human minds because of clutter. Right now I can understand clutter. I do have to wonder why he can communicate with an animal? I wish I would have thought to ask. I wonder if it could be because an animal's thought patterns are simple like run, walk or dinnertime. She grinned broadly and snuggled down deeper into the sleeping bag.

So many times we observed and shrugged off Paul's use of such a detached point of view; like 'your' nature; learning about 'living here on earth'; and 'this world' as personal mannerisms or translation discrepancies. She chuckled again. I've seen him doing his best at being truthful, because he came right out and told Charlie Fisher that we have to solve our problems before we will be welcome in space. He also said he knew others existed. Was he laughing at us? She pictured the look she could still see on Paul's face the day at the picnic table and shook her head slightly. I don't really think so.

When I put together what he said with what I now understand, it all seems so natural. None of us would have ever guessed the truth. How very adaptable his kind must be to blend in so easily? I know I felt he was different from anybody I had every met before, but I think if asked how to describe him, I would have to say he was 'too good to be human'.

No longer trying to sleep, she rolled flat on her back. This is a position that always makes my joints ache yet I haven't felt any pain since this afternoon. Did he really fix it or merely block the pain with his, she grinned again ... with his 'technical device'? I wonder if the warmth I felt while surrounded by the blue light was just energy, or him? I know it gave a feeling of tranquility I will never forget. She smiled again. I really want to think it was him. After being around Paul, and Scott, how could anybody think of them as dangerous? I can only remember them as always generous, kind and considerate with everybody. After hounding them for a year how can George Fox remain so blind?

June gazed out from under the shelter toward what she could see of the stars. Feeling a warm glow she carefully crawled out of the sleeping bag and heaving yet another wakeful sigh, sat up. I think a walk in the cool night air might help, she thought. Leaving the warmth, she quietly put on her clothes, coat and shoes and walked out across the open meadow. The sky seemed alive as she scanned the twinkling lights of the cosmos. She could not help reviewing again the events of the past couple months. Suddenly she became aware of a rustling in the grass behind her and turned toward the sound. In the light of the Milky Way, so bright at altitude on the clear nights of late summer, she saw Roy and Kathy. "You couldn't sleep either?" she asked as they walked toward her.

"No," Roy replied. Confirming what they all knew to be a fact, they joined hands and together looked up at the star-studded sky.

"Even when I was a little girl, I always enjoyed watching the stars and dreaming about what might lay beyond," June offered in retrospect. "Still I had only a very passive interested in astronomy and only managed to seek out a few major constellations. Now constellations have little meaning for me."

"I know how you feel," Kathy replied. "All we see has taken on a new meaning, hasn't it?"

"Totally," she returned.

Shaking his head slowly, Roy looked from June to Kathy. "This whole thing is so totally wild, I'm still having trouble believing it has really happened to us. I expect to wake up home in bed."

"We can't all be dreaming, Dad," Kathy returned. "We know they're real, but I can't help but feel stupid about calling him a space cadet."

"We all have things to feel stupid about," Roy replied, "but I don't think he really minded."

"Neither do I," June confirmed. Pondering their statements, she added, "You know, we have just confirmed that Paul was right when he said they had to leave. We could never treat them the same again. He was also right when he said we can't expect somebody to pop in and tell us how to handle the future of our world. I remember, during my school days and a growing cold war, of having to jump under my desk during civil defense drills. Those were the days when we actually believed we could survive an atomic war. I used to think about how wonderful it would be if someone from space came to tell us to get our act together, you know, like in that old movie." She glanced up toward the sky. Right or wrong, those decisions are ours to make or we will lose our identity ... our character. Now, if we do believe ourselves intelligent, we have to move on beyond adolescence and accept responsibility for what is happening here." She grinned broadly. "You know, it feels rather strange thinking of oneself as an adolescent again."

"I agree," Kathy added. "But to him it must be true. What was it he said about adolescence? Yes, ... it is the time for growing up; the time we are expected to accept responsibility for our actions; a difficult time of making choices between what's right and what you personally desire. As a dominant species, the entire future of our world depends on how we choose."

"What ability Paul's kind must possess and how much good they could do to help us." June offered.

"I recall Paul insisting it isn't time, yet," Roy reminded. "Instead he gave us goals. Correct me if I'm quoting this wrong. He said our home is beautiful and if human conflicts don't destroy it, we can do it with numbers. We must think creatively to solve our problems."

"Close enough, Dad," Kathy chuckled. "Remember, he also called us a creative and amazing species with much to teach them about being young." She squeezed the hands she held in hers. "Do you understand what we share? We know they're out there ... waiting. We also know Paul has given us the benefit of the doubt that someday we will be ready to join them. He said if we choose well for all, we will be ready to reach for the stars. Then the door will open and his world, and I loved this," she grinned broadly, "... perhaps younger because of us, will come to take our hands."

June took in a deep breath and slowly let it out. She let go of Roy's hand and with a broad sweep encompassing the heavens, said, "Do you realize Paul must carry around a direct knowledge of all of this we just look at on a clear night? He was part of a universe beyond our imagination. Now he's simply trying to fit in as a man, and a father."

"Being a parent isn't always as simple as you make it out, Hon," Roy laughed.

"If you've got great kids, it can be," Kathy returned. She glanced back toward the lean-to where Amy and Sandy lay sleeping. "What about Scott, a child, part human and partly of another world? With luck, he might be the catalyst that brings them back. What will happen to him if Fox does find them? Why can't Fox imagine the potential for good instead of only danger? Why must he keep harassing them?" She glanced again toward the sky. "Can't he see he might be destroying what might be our best shot at making it?"

Roy shook his head. "There is no question in my mind, if Fox doesn't come around soon they are going to have a tough 'row to hoe'. With our growing world of information it's hard to remain lost if someone is determined to find you."

"They have one thing on their side," June returned. "As determined as Fox is to catch them, they're just as determined to remain free."

"And Paul's intelligence should give them some edge," Kathy added.

"But his lack of general knowledge could be a hindrance in trying to remain unnoticed," Roy offered.

"He said he's learning every day. Just look at how well he fits in after only a year," Kathy replied, squeezing June's hand firmly. "At least I know we'll never disclose anything which might put them in jeopardy. I do hope Paul will take a moment to call or write or send us a picture postcard telling us they are still okay."

June looked from one to the other. "I'm sorry, Roy. I know you told Paul we wouldn't do anything to put ourselves in danger, but I have already been thinking creatively. Perhaps it's brazen, but knowing nothing about their well-being is more than I can bear."

"What are you going to do?" Roy asked apprehensively.

"I think I am going to place a person to person call to that Mr. Wylie, Fox introduced us to at the trailhead. I'll just ask him if Fox is still looking for Paul Forrester. I think from his response I'll be able to determine whether they're still free or not."

"But he's sure to tell Fox." Roy advised, "and with the electronic stuff available now I'm almost sure Fox will either call or come out to talk to us."

"I wouldn't doubt that for a minute," June confessed. "I'll confess and assume full responsibility. Then I can explain I wasn't exposing any government secrets. Drawing Fox's attention is a risk I have to take for my own peace of mind. You know, Roy, having him come to talk to me is a road running in both directions. You see, I'll also get a chance to give him a lecture about making mistakes, being prejudice, intolerant and making snap judgments."

Kathy agreed. "I think you're right, but I believe we should take turns. We've been together in this from the beginning and I don't see this as the time to change. Don't you agree they became part of our family? It was by mutual agreement we decided to help them. The success of our plan to get the weapon required an effort by everybody, but my main reason is I have a very personal interest in talking to Mr. Fox again. I need to ask his permission to tell Cal the truth. I feel terrible keeping such a secret between us."

June tilted her head back and scanned the sky again. "I wonder which one is his, or if we can even see it from here?"

Roy smiled. "I wonder if he would have told us if we had asked?" A self-satisfied smile bloomed on Roy's weathered face. "What I really wonder is how much we have to do and how long it will take before Paul will feel free to tell them we've grown up enough?"

This STARMAN saga 'Will' continue in a moment.


End file.
